STORM-SWEPT 


SAVED  TO  SERVE 


BY 

ESTELLA  J.  MILLS 


BOSTON 
JAMES  H.  EARLE,  PI/BUSKER 

178  WASIIIXGTON  STREET 
1897 


COPYRIGHT,  1896, 

BY 
JAMES  H.  EAKLE. 


All  Rights  Reserved. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I.     Alarm  Number  Sixty-Three 5 

II.     Led  by  a  Dream 15 

III.  A  Deed  of  Darkness 31 

IV.  A  Rare  Thanksgiving 46 

V.     The  Struggle  at  the  Spring 59 

VI.  A  Fateful  Storm 78 

VII.  The  Accident  on  the  Pond 100 

VIII.  Shipwrecked no 

IX.  Two  Surprises 130 

X.  The  Stolen  Ride 146 

XI.  Confidences 159 

XII.  The  Picnic  at  Echo  Lake 168 

XIII.  The  Dragon  of  Armadale 186 

XIV.  A  Summer  Night's  Vigil 201 

XV.     An  Episode  at  Rose  Cliff 209 

XVI.     The  Baron's  Heir 223 

XVII.     Hope  Crushed  to  Earth 233 

XVIII.     Unveiled  by  the  Northern  Lights 250 

XIX.     Nellie's  New  Idea 257 

XX.     A  Chapter  of  Incidents 265 

XXI.     Katie  Interviews  Aunt  Eunice 285 

XXII.     Mr.  Dean  hears  Katie's  Story 291 

XXIII.  The  Mystery  Unravelled 303 

XXIV.  All  Things  Come  to  Him  who  Patient  Waits. .  320 


203:: 


STORM-SWEPT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ALARM   NUMBER   SIXTY-THREE. 

"  Hearts  that  are  breaking  and  eyes  that  weep, 
Sorrow  and  ruin  and  death  are  there." 

EGINALD  !  Reginald  Dean  !  Are  you 
making  your  will?"  and  Mrs.    Dean 
tapped  with   her  slippered  foot  im- 
patiently on  the  lower  step  of  the 
broad  oaken  staircase. 

A  glance  within  those  heavy  paneled  doors 
would  have  revealed  to  you  a  home  of  elegance 
and  refinement,  well-fitting  its  location  in  aristo- 
cratic Martin  Square.  It  was,  too,  a  home  of 
comfort  wherein  ever^  article,  either  useful  or 
ornamental,  gave  evidence  that  the  mistress  of 
that  domain  was  an  adept  in  the  art  of  arrange- 
ment. The  folds  of  the  curtains  hung  with  an 
air  of  grace,  each  article  of  furniture  and  of  bric- 
a-brac  stood  at  precisely  the  correct  angle,  thus 


STORM-SWEPT. 


affording  the  most  pleasing  effect ;  while,  through- 
out, the  coloring  harmonized  most  delightfully. 
The  graceful  womanly  figure  poised  on  the  lower 
stair,  though  in  an  attitude  of  impatience,  was  in 
full  harmony  with  the  surroundings  as  she  stood 
there  under  the  soft  light  from  the  chandeliers, 
while  scintilating  diamonds  nestled  in  her  raven 
black  hair. 

"  Reginald  !  "  again  the  musical  voice  rose  witb 
a  trace  of  impatience. 

"  Coming,  Ethel !  coming  !  " 

"  Do  hurry !  You  men  are  forever  telling 
about  women  being  so  slow  in  arranging  their 
toilets,  and  here  I've  been  ready  and  waiting 
fully  five  minutes.  I  fear  now  we  shall  miss  the 
first  selections,  and  I  would  not  lose  a  note  for 
anything." 

"Time  enough,  time  enough;  I  just  stopped 
to  kiss  the  children  good-night,  and,  by  the  way, 
Ethel,  you  have  done  a  very  careless  thing.  I 
saw  your  amethyst  set  on  the  dressing-case  ;  and 
there,  too,  lay  your  jewel-casket  open.  I'm 
afraid  some  day  your  valuables  will  be  missing." 

"  Well,  there  surely  is  not  time  now  for  me  to 
go  back;  and  Katie  is  perfectly  honest.  I've 
done  the  same  thing  dozens  of  times  before." 


ALARM  NUMBER  SIXTY-THREE.  7 

"  But,  Ethel,  I  think  it  is  too  much  for  you  to 
tempt  her  so." 

"  Now,  Rex,  for  pity's  sake  don't  begin  to 
lecture  me,  or  I  shall  be  sorry  I  am  going ;  but 
no,  Patti  will  be  there  and  she  is  divine." 

It  was  a  frosty  winter  night,  and  the  stars  were 
brightly  shining  points  of  light  against  the  inky 
blackness  of  ethereal  space,  but  safely  sheltered 
from  the  cold  and  chilling  air,  Reginald  Dean  and 
wife,  in  their  own  carriage,  were  driven  to  the 
door  of  the  opera  house.  They  sat  in  their  pri- 
vate box  listening  to  entrancing  strains  elicited 
from  several  score  of  instruments.  After  a  time 
there  came  a  grand  crash  of  music,  a  few  dulcet 
strains,  and  all  was  still ;  then,  like  a  radiant 
vision,  there  glided  into  the  presence  of  that 
vast  assembly,  the  marvelous,  soul-stirring  Patti. 
Bending  low  before  that  sea  of  upturned  faces  she 
was  greeted  with  a  veritable  thunder  of  applause  ; 
but  it  ceased  as  suddenly,  and  that  rich  melodious 
voice  rose  and  fell  in  sweetest  cadences,  tenderly, 
soulfully,  even  sadly  lingering  over  the  heart- 
melting  notes,  of  "  Home  Sweet  Home."  The 
last  echoes  were  dying  away  and  the  bird-voiced 
singer  retired  from  view  while  every  one  in  that 
large  assembly  seemed  spell-bound.  But  as  she 


8  STORM-SWEPT. 


disappeared  the  charm  was  broken,  and  round 
after  round  of  deafening  applause  rang  and 
reverberated  from  pit  to  dome.  The  concert 
progressed,  and  one  after  another  came  song  of 
flute  or  violin,  or  mellow  voices  of  lesser  lights, 
until  silence  again  reigned.  But  as  the  prima- 
donna  once  again  approached  the  foot-lights, 
another  sound  than  that  of  music  or  applause 
broke  the  perfect  stillness  that  prevailed. 

It  was  the  clash  and  clang  of  fire-bells  wildly 
echoing  through  space,  where  but  a  moment  ago 
had  sounded  the  thunder  of  applause.  With 
blanching  cheeks  each  one  held  his  breath,  men- 
tally counting  the  strokes  lest  they  should  tell  of 
harm  to  himself  or  his  loved  ones. 

One  —  two — three  —  four — five — six;  a  slight 
pause,  one  —  two  —  three;  sixty-three.  A  few 
people  left  their  seats  and  hurriedly  passed  out 
of  the  building.  No  one  noticed  the  startled 
look,  nor  heard  the  moan  of  terror,  as  the  little 
amber-robed  woman  grasped  the  arm  of  her  hus- 
band saying  in  a  hoarse  whisper : 

"The  children — oh,  Reginald,  it  is  our  box, 
sixty-three.  What  if  it  is  our  house  ?  " 

With  quickened  steps  and  voices  stilled  with 
fear  they  reached  their  carriage  and  were  rapidly 


ALARM  NUMBER  SIXTY-THREE.  9 

driven  homeward  ;  alas,  home  no  longer.  There 
met  their  gaze  a  sight  to  turn  their  brains,  or 
send  the  quivering  life-blood  back  upon  their 
hearts  in  the  chill  grasp  of  death.  The  mansion 
which  not  two  hours  before  had  been  left  in 
apparent  security,  was  now  a  blazing,  blackening 
mass,  the  fiery  sheets  of  flame  fiendishly  leaping 
from  every  window  and  reaching  their  lurid  arms  up 
into  the  dense  mass  of  smoke  that  hung  like  a  black 
pall  over  the  ruins  of  what  once  was  home ;  and 
where  their  two  little  ones  had  been  left  inno- 
cently sleeping.  The  father  could  even  then  feel 
the  soft  warmth  of  the  baby  lips  as  he  had 
pressed  them  to  his  own  with  a  fond  "  Good- 
night, and  God  bless  you  ;  "  and  now,  "  Gracious 
Heaven,  save  my  children " ;  were  the  words 
wrung  from  his  whitening  lips.  Already  the 
frantic  mother  was  dashing  up  the  granite  steps 
only  to  be  grasped  and  held  firmly  in  the  embrace 
of  a  stalwart  fireman. 

Struggling,  she  cried,  "  Let  me  go !  I  must 
save  my  children  !  Oh,  are  you  heartless?  Have 
you  no  mercy  ? "  And  then,  with  a  shriek  and 
a  moan,  the  stricken  mother  fell  back  upon  the 
snow,  crimsoned  by  the  flash  of  the  flames.  Mr. 
Dean  had  tried  to  gain  an  entrance,  but  the 


STORM-SWEPT. 


stairs  were  burned  away.  A  yawning,  seething 
abyss  of  smoke  and  flame  greeted  his  terror- 
stricken  gaze  as  he  stood  in  the  doorway  of  his 
once  beautiful  house. 

Not  one  step  over  the  sill  could  he  take.  The 
floors  were  gone,  and  must  have  burned  like 
tinder.  Driven  back  by  the  dense  clouds  of  suf- 
focating smoke,  he  returned  to  the  side  of  his 
wife,  who,  like  a  wounded  bird,  now  lay  cold, 
shivering  and  insensible.  From  one  to  another 
the  father  despairingly  turned,  questioning, 
"  Were  the  children  saved  ?  "  He  cared  for  naught 
else  ;  but  no  one  could  tell.  They  knew  not  how 
the  fire  had  started,  neither  had  they  any  knowl- 
edge of  the  fate  of  the  inmates.  No  one  had 
been  seen  to  leave  the  house,  and  combustion 
was  so  rapid  that  the  firemen  were  unable  to 
enter  the  building  now  entirely  gutted,  only  the 
four  blazing,  blackened,  windowless  walls  left 
standing  out  against  that  star-bespangled  sky. 

Hoping  against  hope,  Mr.  Dean  gathered  in 
his  arms  the  insensible  form  of  his  wife,  and 
sprang  into  the  carriage  with  the  words  "  Myrtle 
Avenue  "  huskily  whispered  to  the  driver,  and 
in  a  few  moments  was  at  his  mother's  door. 
Tenderly  lifting  the  still  form  of  his  wife, 


A  LA  RM  NUMBER  SIX  TY-  THREE.  1 1 

he  carried  her  up  the  steps  and  into  the  hall- 
way. 

"The  children  ?  "  he  questioned,  as  his  mother 
came  to  meet  him.  "  What  of  them  ?  "  she  asked, 
and  then  hope  was  gone.  Leaving  his  wife  in  his 
mother's  care  he  returned  to  the  scene  of  the  fire. 
Moments  lengthened  into  hours,  still  the  anxious 
watcher  could  find  no  clue  to  the  missing.  After  a 
time  the  crowd  dispersed,  engines  and  firemen  were 
gone,  and  Reginald  Dean  stood  alone  gazing  at 
the  smoking,  smouldering  ruin.  Overhead  the 
stars  sparkled  as  of  yore.  The  evening  before  he 
had  stood  by  the  window  with  Angie  in  hi-s  arms, 
as  she  had  asked  him  to  hold  her  up  so  she  could 
see  that  big  star  over  there.  Then  it  was  almost 
hidden  by  the  church  tower  from  whose  belfry 
now  rang  out  the  hour  will  post  midnight. 

It  would  have  made  your  heart  ache  to  have 
witnessed  that  stalwart  form  bowed  in  grief,  not 
knowing  whither  to  turn,  or  of  whom  to  ask  what 
had  become  of  his  little  ones.  He  could  not 
believe  but  that  in  some  way  they  had  been  saved 
from  so  dreadful  a  fate.  They  were  young  and 
innocent, — his  Angie,  scarce  three,  and  baby 
Evelyn,  just  able  to  walk  alone ;  and  a  merciful 
God  would  not  visit  such  evil  on  his  darlings. 


STORM-SWEPT. 


If  some  one  would  or  could  only  say  they  were 
somewhere  safe,  but  this  fearful  suspense,  bridged 
by  no  ray  of  hope, — it  was  fearful,  madden- 
ing. He  must  go  back  to  Myrtle  Avenue,  to  the 
home  of  his  mother,  and  await  the  morrow's 
dawn. 

Still  dazed  by  his  awful  grief,  he  entered  the 
room  where  his  wife  lay  sleeping.  He  seemed  to 
forget  that  she  might  be  ill, — his  mind  centered 
on  the  two  little  ones  and  the  only  words  half- 
sobbed,  half-moaned,  were  "  Angie — Evelyn." 
A  physician  had  been  summoned  ;  and  Mrs.  Dean, 
brought  out  of  that  death-like  faint,  raved  so  like 
a  mad  creature,  it  was  necessary  to  administer 
an  opiate.  The  doctor  prepared  a  powder  for 
Mr.  Dean  ;  but  he,  with  an  impatient  gesture, 
pushed  it  aside,  and  taking  a  seat  by  his  wife's 
bedside  dropped  his  head  upon  his  hands  and  did 
not  move  for  hours.  The  great  fire  burned  low, 
but  he  did  not  heed  it.  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne,  his 
mother,  was  in  close  attendance  and  kept  anxious 
watch  over  the  two  silent  ones.  As  the  first  clear 
streaks  of  dawn  crept  into  the  room  where  the 
watcher  sat,  he  arose,  and  with  weary  steps 
descended  to  the  floor  below.  He  was  met  in 
the  hall  by  his  mother  bearing  in  her  hands  a  tray 


ALARM  NUMBER  SIXTY-THREE.  13 

on  which  was  daintily  arrayed  a  slice  of  buttered 
toast,  and  a  cup  of  steaming  coffee. 

"  Come  back,  Reginald,  and  get  this  warm  drink. 
It  won't  take  but  a  moment." 

He  lifted  the  cup  and  drained  it,  and  in  an- 
other instant  was  gone.  She  gazed  after  him 
wonderingly  ; — then  there  flashed  upon  her  mind 
the  reason  for  his  strange  and  altered  appear- 
ance. Ah,  yes,  it  was  her  dark-haired  boy, 
changed  in  a  single  night  to  a  hoary-headed, 
broken-hearted  man.  Every  endeavor  was  made 
to  find  some  trace  of  the  children,  but  not  one  in 
that  vast  city  could  be  found  who  knew  aught  in 
regard  to  them.  The  busy  world  moved  on  ;  the 
fire  was  chronicled  ;  but,  ere  the  sun  had  twice 
risen  and  set,  the  incident  was  a  thing  of  the 
past,  forgotten  in  the  ceaseless  bewildering  whirl 
of  the  great  metropolis.  Those  hearts  that  had 
loved  and  lost  were  aching  voids  ;  while  only  im- 
mediate friends  remembered  why  Reginald  Dean's 
hair  had  so  suddenly  become  blanched  ;  and  the 
few  who  missed  his  wife  from  social  circles,  oc- 
casionally remarked,  "It  was  sad  about  her  losing 
her  children.  She  is  an  invalid  now." 

Ever  and  anon  there  sprang  up  a  hope  tugging 
at  the  father's  heart-strings,  and  breathing  sug- 


I4  STORM-SWEPT. 

gestions  that,  in  some  way,  he  should  find  his 
children  again  on  earth  ;  and  with  this  he  tried  to 
quiet  his  troubled  soul.  But,  Reginald  Dean, 
another  sorrow  awaits  you.  Listen  for  the  echoing 
notes  of  that  beautiful  hymn,  "  Home,  sweet 
Home."  It  seems  strangely  connected  with  the 
most  sad  occurrences  of  your  life,  and  it  shall 
come  to  pass  that  when  you  hear  those  pathetic 
strains,  you  will  shudderingly  question,  "  What 
calamity  now  hastens  on  ?  " 


LED  BY  A  DREAM. 


CHAPTER  II. 

LED     BY    A    DREAM. 

"  In  the  white  curtain  to  and  fro, 
She  saw  the  gusty  shadows  sway.' 


OR  a  week  Mrs.  Dean  lay  in  a  comatose 
condition,  once  in  a  while  rallying  and 
speaking  a  few  wandering  words,  then 
•  sinking  again  into  the  same  sad  state 
of  lethargic  insensibility.  A  second,  and  a  third 
week  passed,  and  she  appeared  to  be  gaining,  but 
though  bodily  strength  was  returning  the  mind 
seemed  weak.  Outside  her  chamber  window 
stood  a  row  of  gaunt  oak  trees,  whose  dry  leaves 
rustled  softly  as  the  chill  breeze  moaned  through 
the  swaying  branches.  The  window  had  been 
left  slightly  opened,  and  the  white  curtain  idly 
swung  to  and  fro  with  the  breeze. 

One  day,  about  two  months  from  the  opening 
of  our  story,  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne  stood  bathing  the 
hot  forehead,  when  Mrs.  Dean  suddenly  started 


STORM-SWEPT. 


up  to  a  sitting  position.  Pointing  to  the  open 
window,  she  said,  "  Mother,  do  you  see  that  white 
hand  coming  in  at  the  side  of  the  curtain? 
Angie  beckons  for  me  to  come.  Don't  you  think 
I  had  better  go  ?  "  With  trembling  voice  Mrs. 
Van  Alstyne  tried  to  quiet  the  disordered  brain, 
telling  her  to  wait  till  she  felt  better,  and  then 
they  would  talk  about  it.  In  a  few  moments 
Mrs.  Dean  shrieked  out  with  fearful  emphasis, 
"  The  fire  bells  !  Our  box  !  sixty-three  !  the 
children  !  Oh,  Reginald  !  "  and  crept  under  the 
clothes,  covering  her  head,  as  if  to  keep  out  the 
sound. 

Then,  indeed,  did  the  cup  of  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne's 
grief  overflow.  Bereft  of  the  grandchildren, 
now  to  feel  their  mother  was  a  maniac  —  yes,  the 
worst  had  come,  the  mind  was  gone.  Reginald 
Dean  moved  about  the  house  like  a  man  bereft 
of  feeling,  speaking  in  subdued  tones  whenever 
he  spoke  at  all,  brightening  up  occasionally  when 
the  door-bell  rang,  then,  when  no  tidings  came, 
settling  into  a  deeper  state  of  melancholia.  But 
weeks  and  months  passed,  and  all  hope  de- 
parted. 

As  Easter  approached  there  came  a  Sunday 
like  a  fair  May  day  in  advance  of  its  fellows.  A 


LED  BY  A  DREAM. 


few  bluebirds  and  robins  were  out,  and  on  the 
trees  the  buds  were  bursting,  patches  of  snow  lay 
along  by  the  fences,  while  here  and  there  the 
grass  was  starting  into  greenness.  The  mellow 
sun  stole  up  over  the  tree-tops  and  into  the  clear 
blue  of  the  sky  overhead.  Church  bells  rang  their 
solemn  chimes  as  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne  and  Reginald 
Dean  bent  their  steps  toward  the  old  stone 
church  of  St.  Paul ;  ivy-grown  and  moss-encrusted. 
Within,  the  semi-darkness  was  broken  by  flecks 
of  sunlight  falling  through  stained  glass  windows, 
and  reaching  down  through  the  vaulted  space 
overhead  into  dim  recesses  within  the  high-backed 
pews,  fit  resting-place  for  those  bowed  down  with 
sorrow  or  with  care.  It  placed  one  in  a  worship- 
ful mood  to  sit  there  screened  from  the  gaze  of  a 
large  congregation,  listening  to  the  sweet  chanting 
of  the  choir,  and  the  solemn  roll  of  the  organ. 
The  player's  fingers  swept  over  the  keys  in  a 
softly  echoing  prelude,  then  in  another  moment 
on  the  balmy  spring  air  there  swelled  forth  the 
notes  of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home."  How  ten- 
derly and  solemnly  the  choir  sang  the  hymn 
through,  while  up  to  the  throne  of  grace  rose 
the  prayer  of  one,  as  the  words  filled  the  dim  old 
church, — 


i8  STORM-SWEPT. 

"  While  here  in  this  valley  of  conflict  I  stay, 

O  give  me  submission  and  strength  as  my  day ; 
In  all  my  afflictions  to  Thee  would  I  come, 
Rejoicing  in  hope  of  my  glorious  home." 

A  shudder  ran  through  Mr.  Dean's  frame  as  his 
mind  reverted  to  the  last  time  he  had  heard  that 
sweet  refrain.  Neither  from  the  hymn,  nor  from 
the  sermon  that  followed,  could  he  gain  either 
comfort  or  consolation.  Once,  not  quite  half  a 
score  of  years  ago,  his  heart  would  have  responded 
in  full  sympathy  with  the  service,  and  would  have 
been  touched,  perhaps,  with  the  balm  of  healing ; 
but  the  years  had  brought  business  cares  and  per- 
plexities, and  in  looking  after  the  affairs  of  the 
world  he  had  lost  sight  of  the  narrow  way,  and 
was  now  threading  the  intricate  mazes  of  a  worldly 
business  life. 

Faith  is  a  slender  thread  on  which  hangs  one's 
destiny.  Clung  to,  and  strengthened,  it  brings 
about,  from  possibilities,  genuine  realities,  but 
when  the  faith-cord  loosens  and  well-nigh  breaks, 
we  lose  things  out  of  our  present  lives  that  we 
might  have  had  for  the  asking.  If  not  too  long 
neglected,  we  may  bring  these  realities  into  our 
lives  ;  but  alas  !  too  often,  when  we  look  back  and 
think  what  might  have  been,  how  near  to  our 


LED  BY  A  DREAM. 


grasp  have  been  some  of  the  things  our  hearts 
have  most  desired,  we  lose  sight  of  the  remnant 
of  faith  that  is  left,  and  go  groping  on  in  the 
darkness.  At  the  house  on  Myrtle  Avenue,  a 
quiet  Sabbath  stillness  reigned.  Aunt  Eunice 
glided  in  and  out  performing  her  household  tasks, 
while  Mrs.  Dean,  robed  in  a  soft  garment  of  white, 
reclined  on  a  couch.  The  warm  spring  breeze 
entering  the  open  window  lifted  the  raven  locks 
from  the  pale  brow,  as  if  it  would  pity  and 
caress  that  saddest  of  all  living  creatures — a  mind- 
wrecked  human  being. 

A  white-capped,  uniformed  nurse  was  in  close 
attendance,  and  stepping  to  the  side  of  Mrs.  Dean 
arranged  about  her  form  a  fleecy  afghan,  then 
bent  over  her  pallid  features  in  order  to  become 
perfectly  assured  that  the  patient  was  sleeping. 
There  was  not  even  a  quiver  of  the  eyelids,  and 
one  white  hand  resting  upon  her  breast  rose  and 
fell  with  the  regular  breathing. 

"  She  is  fast  asleep,  surely,"  thought  the  nurse. 
"  I  will  run  out  for  a  little  airing." 

Only  a  few  feet  from  the  sitting-room  windows, 
and  opening  out  from  another  part  of  the  house, 
was  a  square  veranda,  on  which  stood  a  comfort- 
able old-fashioned  chair,  and  in  this  the  nurse 


STORM-SWEPT. 


settled  herself  for  a  brief  season  of  rest.  After 
waiting  until  the  balmy  atmosphere  was  fast  in- 
viting slumber  to  the  weary  body  of  the  nurse, 
Mrs.  Dean  raised  herself  upon  one  elbow,  and 
glanced  around  the  apartment.  Becoming  con- 
vinced that  she  was  alone,  she  laughed  softly  to 
herself,  remarking,  "  Not  asleep  that  time,  were 
you,  Ethel  ?  Now  or  never  !  "  Then  arising,  she 
passed  into  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne's  room,  stepped  to 
the  bedside,  slid  her  hand  in  under  the  mattress, 
and  with  the  chuckling  remark,  "  I  thought  I 
should  find  it  here,"  drew  forth  a  revolver. 
Then  quickly  returning  to  her  position  on  the 
couch  she  critically  surveyed  the  weapon.  What- 
ever thoughts  were  whirling  through  her  mind 
were  brought  to  a  sudden  close  ;  for  just  then  the 
front  door  creaked  as  the  church-goers  re-entered 
the  house.  At  the  same  instant  there  was  a  click 
of  the  pistol,  a  sharp  report,  and  Reginald  Dean 
and  Mrs.  Van  Alstyrie  rushed  into  the  room  in 
time  to  see  the  instrument  drop  from  the  hand  of 
the  poor  demented  woman.  Ethel  Dean  had  at- 
tempted to  take  her  own  life. 

Reginald's  cup  of  sorrow  was  overflowing,  but 
the  startled  aim  had  erred  and  the  wound  was  not 
fatal.  Careful  nursing  for  weeks  was  necessary, 


LED  BY  A  DREAM. 


and  what  a  strain  came  upon  the  minds  of  the 
watchers  none  outside  could  ever  know.  A  vio- 
lent fever  raged  week  after  week,  until  the  poor 
racked  form  was  reduced  almost  to  a  skeleton. 
The  doctor  had  a  hope  which  he  did  not  whisper. 
If  he  only  could  bring  that  hope  to  pass,  what 
joy,  what  joy  ! 

Down  to  the  very  gates  of  death  passed  that 
frail  mind-diseased  woman,  until  there  came  an 
hour  when  it  seemed  as  though  the  death-angel 
must  claim  the  victory.  Then  came  a  calm  and 
almost  breathless  sleep,  when  it  appeared  that 
the  sleeper  might  pass  away  without  a  struggle. 
All  watched  and  waited.  Man  had  done  to  the 
extent  of  his  skill.  It  was  in  the  Lord's  hands, 
and  He  is  merciful.  The  hours  passed  on  and 
then — oh,  hope  beyond  belief,  those  eyes  opened, 
and  the  glitter  of  fever  and  of  insanity  was  gone. 
Breathlessly  they  sat  and  waited.  Was  it  one 
conscious  moment  before  the  soul  should  leave 
its  temple  of  clay  and  soar  away  clothed  in  im- 
mortality ?  The  first  words  spoken  by  the 
physician,  "  I  give  you  hope,"  were  like  rain  in 
the  desert. 

Then  followed  days  of  anxious  care,  days  when 
no  one  spoke  above  a  whisper ;  when  all  walked 


STORM-SW£PT. 


on  tip-toe:  and  every  sound  and  movement  in  the 
sick-room  was  telegraphed  all  over  the  house. 
The  children  were  never  mentioned,  for  the  effect 
of  such  an  allusion  was  dreaded.  Mrs.  Dean  was 
a  poor  frail  invalid,  hardly  worth  raising,  as  she 
expressed  it ;  but  what  joy  pervaded  that  house- 
hold. Mr.  Dean  had  grown  five  years  younger 
in  his  appearance,  and  through  this  great  mercy 
he  had  been  led  back  to  the  foot  of  the  Cross. 
He  recognized  these  trials  of  the  past  few  months 
as  being  the  Refiner's  fire.  Though  underneath 
all  was  the  wound  caused  by  the  loss  of  the 
children,  yet  he  began  to  lay  that  trial,  along 
with  his  other  burdens,  upon  the  great  Burden- 
Bearer. 

Then  came  a  time  when  business  life  must  be 
taken  up  again  ;  and  with  how  much  better  heart 
this  man  could  go  out  to  his  work  feeling  that  he 
left  one  at  home  who  would  gladly  await  his 
coming ;  one  who  was  clothed  and  in  her  right 
mind.  Domiciled  in  the  house  on  Myrtle  Avenue, 
was  Eunice  Stiles,  a  plain  everyday  New  England 
woman,  unlearned  in  book-lore,  but  well-versed  in 
the  knowledge  most  needful :  having  ever  about 
her  the  Everlasting  Arms,  which  sustained  her  in 
every  trial,  and  made  her  a  wonderful  help  and 


LED  BY  A  DREAM.  23 


consolation  to  all  those  with  whom  she  had  any 
dealings.  When  Reginald  Dean  was  a  baby  she 
had  left  her  country  home  in  order  to  fulfill  a 
school-girl's  promise. 

Reginald's  mother  and  Eunice  Stiles  were  mates 
at  school ;  and  at  the  close  of  those  halcyon  days 
a  mutual  promise  had  been  made  that  whenever 
one  needed  the  other  it  should  be  her  first  duty 
to  minister  to  the  wants  of  her  chosen  friend. 
Therefore  it  came  to  pass  that  Eunice  Stiles  was 
sent  for  and  came  with  very  little  delay,  and  in 
the  train  of  circumstances  which  followed,  it  had 
come  about  that  Mrs.  Alstyne's  home  had  for 
years  been  the  home  of  Aunt  Eunice.  It  was  she 
who  had  cradled  in  her  arms  the  baby  Rex, — little 
king  of  the  house,  too,  had  he  been,  then  when 
older  grown, — far  beyond  the  desire  for  softly- 
crooned  lullabyes, — she  had  bound  up  his  stubbed 
toes  and  extracted  slivers  for  him  ;  and  even 
doctored  and  nursed  with  the  aid  of  raw  oysters 
an  eye  injured  by  a  sissing  fire-cracker.  It  was 
she  who  had  dressed  the  wounded  head  when  one 
time,  when  jumping  from  the  hay-mow,  Reginald 
struck  against  a  spike  in  a  beam  and  inflicted  an 
ugly  wound.  Ofttimes  she  made  a  little  "  try 
cake,"  or  pie,  or  pudding,  purposely  for  him  ; 


24  S  TORM-S IV EP  T. 


and  how    many  many   childish    faults    did    she 
smooth  over,  screening  him  always  if  possible. 

And  now  she  was  revolving  in  her  mind  the 
question  as  to  what  she  could  do  to  help  him  out 
of  this  terrible  trouble  that  he  was  struggling  so 
hard  to  bear.  Little  Angie  used  often  to  visit 
grandmamma;  and  Aunt  Eunice  was  just  begin- 
ning to  teach  the  child  to  sew.  The  kitchen  at 
grandma's  was  Eunice  Stiles'  sitting-room  by 
preference.  It  contained  two  south  windows 
opening  out  over  a  very  pleasant  landscape,  and 
these  windows  she  counted  as  among  her  mercies. 
One  end  of  the  room  was  fitted  up  with  a  cosy 
corner  where  her  carefully  tended  house-plants 
thrived  and  blossomed  beneath  the  rays  of  the 
warm  south  sunlight.  Upon  the  wall  was  a  small 
door  which,  when  opened,  revealed  a  store  of 
treasures.  For  one  thing  there  was  a  box  of 
picture-books,  old-fashioned  and  quaint  in  design 
and  print ;  but  for  hours  Angie  would  amuse  her- 
self with  them.  There  too  was  a  miniature  set  of 
furniture  and  a  unique  representation  of  a  quilting 
bee,  wooden  dolls,  patchwork  quilt  and  all,  and 
these  with  many  other  quaint  toys  Angie  was  in 
the  habit  of  playing  with  when  she  came,  bringing 
life  and  sunshine  into  that  quiet  house. 


LED  BY  A  DREAM. 


-'5 


In  Aunt  Eunice's  work-basket  lay  two  little 
squares  of  calico  on  which  Angie  had  placed 
straggling  stitches.  They  seemed  almost  sacred 
now,  for  there  they  were  just  as  the  baby  fingers 
had  left  them,  when  last  the  little  one  was  at 
grandma's.  Aunt  Eunice  had  a  way  of  talking  to 
herself,  and  one  day,  as  she  sat  there  by  the  south 
window,  looking  first  at  the  bit  of  sewing  and 
then  with  tear-dimmed  eyes  gazing  out  over  the 
landscape,  catching  glimpses  of  birds  flitting  to 
and  fro  as  they  wrought  at  the  building  of  their 
nests  ;  and  noting  the  starting  grass  and  foliage 
on  the  distant  hillsides ;  she  began  knitting 
more  vigorously  as  she  communed  with  herself. 

"  I  feel,  somehow,  as  though  those  children 
were  in  the  land  o'  the  livin'.  I  know  I  should 
feel  different  than  I  do  if  they  were  dead  and 
gone.  I  had  a  dream  last  night,  the  curiousest 
one  I  ever  had  I  believe  ;  and  I  thought  those 
children  were  in  an  orphan  asylum,  and  in  the 
very  asylum  that  was  in  the  city  near  where  I  was 
brought  up.  I'm  a  leetle  bit  superstitious  about 
dreams,  and  I  think  I'll  go  there  and  see  if  there 
is  anything  to  it."  Just  then  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne 
entered  the  room. 

"  Martha," — Aunt  Eunice  always  called  her  by 


26  STORM-SWEPT. 


her  first  name,  for,  as  she  said,  "  Wasn't  they 
born  and  brought  up  neighbors  ?  " — "  I  want  to  go 
away  for  a  few  days  to  see  my  sister  Hester  over 
to  Fairbury.  I  hain't  been  in  a  long  time,  and 
I've  got  a  sort  of  a  hankerin'  after  her  to-day." 

"  Why,  go  by  all  means,  if  you  would  like  to. 
You  will  be  back  by  house-cleaning  time  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  only  want  to  go  and  stay  over 
Sunday,  and  perhaps  a  day  or  two  longer." 

When  Friday  morning  came,  Aunt  Eunice 
started  on  her  journey,  not  a  long  one,  to  be  sure, 
but  she  seldom  traveled,  and  a  trip  of  a  few  hours' 
duration  seemed  quite  an  episode  in  her  quiet 
life.  It  was  near  noon  when  the  train  she  was  to 
take  steamed  into  the  depot  where  she  had  sat 
waiting  for  two  mortal  hours  ;  and  when  at  last 
she  stood  on  the  New  Haven  platform,  she  looked 
about  her,  half  wondering  if  any  way  Hester  had 
surmised  she  was  coming,  and  sent  Jared  to  the 
city  to  meet  her.  But,  no,  every  face  was  a 
strange  one,  and  yet  the  place  had  not  changed 
greatly.  Here  and  there  was  a  modern-built 
house,  and  scarcely  a  moment  passed  when  she 
could  not  hear  the  tinkle  of  a  horse-car  bell.  In 
the  distance,  looming  up  between  her  and  the  face 
of  West  Rock  rose  the  tall  spire  of  the  Methodist, 


LED  BY  A  DREAM.  27 


Church.  Away  off  to  the  northward  along  the 
horizon  lay  the  Sleeping  Giant,  and  Mount  Carmel 
at  its  head.  The  sun  had  passed  the  zenith  and 
was  moving  down  towards  the  tops  of  the  trees 
that  fringed  a  ridge  of  hills  around  to  the  west- 
ward as  Aunt  Eunice  hurried  along  on  her  self- 
imposed  mission.  She  boarded  a  car,  and  alighted 
at  the  point  nearest  her  destination  ;  then  walked 
thoughtfully  along  the  elm-shaded  street  to  where 
the  old  Asylum  stood.  She  almost  thought  she 
had  mistaken  the  place.  Wings  had  been  added, 
and  the  shrubbery  had  grown  so  tall,  and  multi- 
plied greatly,  while  over  the  doorway  were  the 
words,  Faith  Orphan  Asylum. 

"  Hem,"  said  Aunt  Eunice,  "  this  is  a  new 
wrinkle ;  must  have  changed  hands  since  I  was 
here  last."  However  she  rang  the  bell,  and 
a  young  girl,  tidily  clad,  answered  the  sum- 
mons. 

"  Good  afternoon,  miss,  have  you  any  little 
children  here?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  quite  a  number." 

"  Can  I  see  them  ?  " 

"  Certainly !  Would  you  wish  to  see  the 
nursery  children  or  the  older  ones  first?  The 
little  ones  are  having  supper.  The  others  are 


28  STORM-SWEPT. 


scattered  about  the  building  and  playground,  as 
this  is  their  hour  for  recreation." 

"  Please  let  me  see  the  nursery  children ;  "  and 
Aunt  Eunice's  voice  trembled  with  emotion. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  please,"  and  the  girl  stepped 
into  a  room  leading  off  from  the  wide  hall.  In 
an  instant  she  returned  with  the  matron,  who 
questioned,  "Are  you  looking  for  a  child  for 
adoption,  madam?" 

The  snap  of  those  black  eyes  and  the  firm 
closing  of  the  thin  lips  which  seemed  to  say,  "  My 
word  is  law,"  made  Aunt  Eunice  shiver,  but  she 
answered  calmly,  "  No,  a  friend  of  mine  has  lost 
two  children  recently,  and  I  thought  I'd  like  to 
see  if  there  were  any  here  who  resembled  them." 

"  Their  ages,  please  ?  " 

"  One  and  three!  " 

"  Very  well.  Alice,  show  this  lady  to  the 
nursery." 

The  nursery  door  opened,  revealing  twenty  or 
more  little  tots  gathered  around  a  long,  low 
table,  quietly  eating  their  supper  of  bread  and 
milk.  One  chubby  little  curly-head  was  nodding 
low  over  her  small  yellow  bowl,  when  from  the 
further  end  of  the  room  rose  the  voice  of  the 
nursery  matron.  "  Emma  Bell,  wake  up  and 


LED  BY  A  DREAM.  29 


finish  your  supper  for  you  will  have  to  go  to  bed 
with  the  rest  when  they  are  done."  The  nod- 
ding head  was  quickly  raised,  and  the  black  eyes 
of  the  child  ^ast  a  defiant  glance  at  the  woman. 
Aunt  Eunice's  heart  swelled  with  pity  toward 
the  poor  little  waif,  and  a  new-born  wish  entered 
her  mind  that  she  might  be  able  some  day  to 
make  a  home  for  herself,  and  take  some  lonely 
little  soul  to  share  it  with  her  and  cheer  her 
latest  years.  She  intently  surveyed  the  little 
faces,  then  turned  to  the  girl  and  said,  "There 
ain't  none  here  like  'em.  That  one  " — pointing  to 
Emma,  "  is  most  like  Evelyn.  I'm  so  sorry;  and 
these  are  all  ?  " 

"  Yes,  these  are  all."  And  Aunt  Eunice  sadly 
turned  away*  for  hope  had  risen  high,  and  visions 
of  rejoicing  had  flitted  before  her  mind,  but 
there  was  nothing  in  the  dream  after  all.  She 
had  been  foolish  to  give  it  a  second  thought. 
She  might  have  known  dreams  always  go  by  con- 
traries. She  would  not  let  a  soul  know  how  fool- 
ish she  had  been.  So  she  retraced  her  steps  and 
took  the  omnibus  for  Fairbury,  where  sister 
Hester  lived. 

"  She  was  '  dretful  glad  '  to  see  me  ;  "  so  Aunt 
Eunice  told  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne  upon  her  return ; 


3° 


STORM-SWEPT. 


"  and  so  was  her  husband,  Jared  Cooper.  I  hadn't 
seen  him  in  as  much  as  ten  years ;  and  he's  got 
to  be  postmaster  over  to  the  Junction.  They 
live  in  the  same  house  the  post-office  is  in,"  she 
added.  "  He's  postmaster  for  Fairbury  and 
Westbridge  too.  That's  the  next  village,  you 
know." 

Time  passed,  and  life  at  the  cottage  went  on 
in  the  old  routine,  as  nearly  as  it  could ;  though 
everywhere  there  seemed  to  be  a  something 
missing.  There  were  places  where  they  felt 
there  must  be  a  tangible  object ;  but  when,  invol- 
untarily, a  hand  was  put  out,  only  empty  space 
was  revealed.  But  you  who  have  loved  ones 
gone  over  the  boundary  from  whence  none  ever 
'return,  you  can  define  in  your  hearts  the  void, 
the  absolute  chaos,  which  for  a  time  prevailed. 


A  DEED  OF  DARKNESS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A   DEED   OF   DARKNESS. 

"  Child,  thy  bed  shall  be 

Folded  safe  from  harm — Love,  deep  and  kind, 
Shall  watch  around." 


NE  bright  April  morning,  when  the 
world  was  waking  to  the  echo  of  song- 
birds, and  the  balmy,  resinous  odors 
of  balsam  and  fir  pervaded  the  air ; 
when  violets  and  anemones  lifted  their  heads  in 
the  woodland,^  having  heard  the  early  call  of  the 
spring-showers ;  in  the  doorway  of  a  pleasant 
cottage,  in  a  town  on  the  outskirts  of  a  large  city, 
a  shrewd-faced  woman  stood,  her  hand  raised  to 
her  eyes,  as  she  looked  anxiously  up  and  down 
the  road,  apparently  watching  for  some  one. 
Presently  a  young  man  came  in  sight,  and  the 
woman  hastened  down  the  road  to  meet  him, 
impatient  to  learn  some  tidings  for  which  she 
had  evidently  waited  anxiously  and  long.  No 
houses  were  near,  though  a  few  columns  of 


STORM-SWEPT. 


ascending  smoke  denned  the  location  of  several 
distant  cottages  hidden  by  trees  and  undulations 
of  the  intervening  meadowland.  The  cottage  in 
the  foreground  was  an  old-fashioned  structure, 
somewhat  elevated  above  the  roadway  along 
which  the  couple  now  appro:. chcd  in  earnest  con- 
versation. 

"  Hang  it,"  the  young  man  was  saying,  "it  was 
a  tender  sort  of  a  job,  and  I'll  be  blowed  if  I 
ever  want  another  such  ;  but,  however,  it's  done. 
Now  for  my  pay." 

"  Tell  me  about  it  first,"  said  the  woman. 

"  Well,  to  start  with,  we  took  a  good  two 
hours'  train-ride.  I  bought  some  lunch  for  'em — 
candy  and  things — had  to  carry  the  little  one  all 
the  way  to  the  train.  Her  little  legs  couldn't 
walk  fast  enough,  of  course.  Guess  I  had  one 
pretty  close  shave,  though.  We  were  going 
through  some  country  town  and  slacked  up  long 
enough  to  take  a  mail-bag  aboard,  and  I'll  be 
hanged  if  the  biggest  'un  didn't  spy,  or  think  she 
did,  somebody  she  knew.  'Oh,'  said  she,  'we 
get  off  here,  I  know.  There's  Aunt  Eunice.  I 
guess  she's  comin'  to  take  us  home;'  but  the 
window  was  down  and  the  train  was  off  in  a  jiffy, 
and  I  just  caught  a  glimpse  of  an  old-fashioned 


A  DEED  OF  DARKNESS.  33 


neat-looking  woman  ;  I  orter  not  say  it,  I  s'pose, 
but  mother,  I'd  a  heap  ruther  stand  in  her  shoes 
than  yourn  at  the  judgment." 

"  Hush,  Matt,  I  did  it  for  the  best.  We  never 
could  have  kept  'em,  and  taken  proper  care  of 
'em  ;  and  then  they  was  born  to  the  purple  any- 
way, and  may  yet  be  given  away  to  some  rich 
people,  and  it'll  be  a  godsend  to  'em  that  they 
went  there.'' 

"Ah,  yes;  that's  all  very  well,  but  May  bees 
don't  fly  in  April." 

"  Quick,  and  tell  me  the  rest.  Katie  will  be  try- 
ing to  get  up  before  I  get  back,  and  I've  had  my 
hands  full  keeping  her  on  that  bed  all  this  time,  I 
tell  you.  It  seems  as  if  your  ship  never  would 
get  in.  It'll  be  some  weeks  yet  before  she'll  fully 
recover  from  the  effects  of  all  those  powders;  and 
we  must  get  away  somewhere  soon  in  order  to  live, 
for  there's  no  work  around  here." 

"  Ha,  ha, — I'll  warrant  you  don't  find  your 
purse  empty  for  one  while,  even  after  you've  set- 
tled with  me ;  but  here  goes  for  the  rest  of  the 
story.  I  couldn't  pacify  the  biggest  un  no  way, 
after  she  spied  that  old  woman,  not  till  the  train- 
boy  came  through  and  I  filled  her  lap  with 
oranges  and  candy.  That  kept  her  busy  a  little 
3 


34  STORM-SWEPT. 


while,  and  she  quieted  down  considerable  when  I 
told  her  I  guessed  the  old  lady  would  be  at  the 
station  when  we  got  off.  Of  course  she  wasn't ; 
so  I  suggested  that  we  go  and  find  her.  I  wasn't 
long  in  comin'  in  sight  of  the  asylum.  There's  a 
big  church  across  the  way  from  it,  and  I  took  'em 
through  the  cemetery  that's  next  to  it,  cut  acrosst 
the  potter's  field,  and  came  out  on  the  other  side. 
Then  we  went  in  at  the  big  gate  to  the  asylum. 
I  slunk  round  behind  the  shrubbery,  and  told  'em 
to  go  up  to  the  door  and  knock,  and,  when  some- 
body opened  it,  to  tell  'em  they'd  come  for  their 
auntie,  and  if  she  wasn't  there  to  go  in  and  wait. 
Then  I  skipped,  I  couldn't  bear  to  stay  there  and 
see  'em  boo-hooin'  any  more. 

"  If  I  had,  I  guess  I'd  a  brought  'em  back  here, 
sure.  Now,  whatever  becomes  of  'em  I  don't 
know ;  only  the  last  I  see  of  'em  they  was 
a-climbin'  those  front  steps,  and  a-chawin'  on 
some  candy,  and  the  little  un  had  an  orange  under 
her  arm  bigger'n  her  own  head. 

"  She  was  a  lovin'  leetle  creeter.  How  she  did 
put  her  little  arms  around  my  neck  when  I  carried 
her.  It's  your  sin,  mother,  if  any  harm  comes  to 
'em  ;  for  I'll  be  blowed  if  I  wasn't  a-mind  to  bring 
'em  back  a  dozen  times.  If  I  hadn't  a-been  hard 


A  DEED  OF  DARKNESS.  35 


up  for  the  cash  I  would,  sure.  That's  what  I'm 
here  for  now,  so  plank  it  down." 

"  Well,  it's  a  good  job  you  didn't  bring  them 
back,  after  I'd  got  as  far  as  this.  Here's  twenty- 
five  dollars,  and  now  don't  let  me  see  you  again 
for  a  year,  not  till  I  get  Katie  over  it.  I  expect 
she'll  have  a  fit.  What  are  you  goin'  to  do  ?  You 
can't  stay  around  here  long,  or  she'll  know  there's 
been  somethin'  in  the  wind." 

"  I  expect  to  ship  in  the  first  sailing  vessel  I 
can  find  for  a  tour  around  the  world.  You'd  bet- 
ter make  it  twenty-five  more.  I'll  be  gone  three 
years,  probably,  and  I  vow  that  job  was  cheap 
enough  at  fifty." 

•  "  Here,  take  it,  if  you  hain't  earned  it.  Now 
clear  out,  and  don't  show  your  face  again  for  three 
years." 

"  Ha,  you're  a  pretty  mother,  you  are,  to  send 
your  only  son  off  for  three  years  with  strict  orders 
not  to  show  his  face  in  less  time.  Well,  give 
my  love  to  Katie,  and  tell  her  I'll  bring  her 
a  new  gown,  if  I  don't  land  in  Davy  Jones's 
locker." 

They  had  stood  down  by  the  roadside  till  the 
conversation  was  ended.  Then  the  young  man 
started  down  the  road,  whistling  as  he  went,  and 


36  STORM-SWEPT. 


the  woman  entered  the  house.  Matt  was  jubilant 
over  two  things.  He  had  fifty  dollars  in  cold  cash 
to  do  with  as  he  wished  ;  and  he  had  played  a 
little  game  on  his  mother. 

"  She's  going  to  lie  to  Katie,  I  know  she  is, — 
why  shouldn't  I  lie  to  her,"  he  logically  reasoned. 
"  I  don't  suppose  it  makes  a  'tarnal  bit  of  differ- 
ence to  her  whether  I  took  those  children  four  or 
forty  miles  away.  It  would  be  a  good  joke  if 
they  should  happen  to  get  where  Katie  could  see 
'em.  Whew !  wouldn't  she  make  Rome  howl  ? 
Gee  Whittaker  !  I  can  a'most  see  her  eyes  a-snap- 
pin'  now.  '  Right  is  right,'  Katie  says,  and  I'll 
be  blowed  if  I  don't  believe  so,  too.  It's  a  shame 
to  put  away  those  cunnin'  little  creeters.  Matt 
Sharon,  stop  your  blubberin'.  Never  knowed 
afore  you  was  quite  a  fool.  Well,  I  ain't  obliged 
to  go  in  a  sailin'  vessel  for  a  trip  around  the 
world,"  and  he  said  it  again  to  himself  not  three 
hours  later,  as  he  stood  on  Long  Wharf  in  the 
office  of  Captain  Perkins,  and  signed  his  name  on 
the  books  of  a  taut  little  schooner  hauling  coal 
from  Norfolk. 

What  he  wrote  read  as  follows  : — 

"  Matthew  Sharon,  seaman,  New  Haven."  He 
did  not  live  in  that  city,  in  fact,  never  had  ;  but 


A  DEED  OF  DARKNESS. 


37 


perhaps  some  little  bird  had  told  him  that  before 
he  would  return  from  his  voyage  his  mother  and 
Katie  would  be  residents  of  the  City  of  Elms. 

Mrs.  Sharon  entered  the  cottage,  and  passed 
through  the  living-room  into  the  kitchen  beyond  ; 
but  as  her  feet  touched  the  door-sill  she  stood  as 
one  petrified.  A  slight  form  was  visible  in  the 
doorway  between  the  sitting-room  and  the  bed- 
chamber adjoining.  It  was  a  thin  face,  frightfully 
scarred,  that  the  woman  beheld. 

"  Katie  Sharon,  are  you  possessed  ?  Go  right 
back  to  bed  this  minute.  You  ain't  no  more  fit 
to  be  walkin'  around  than  nothin'  at  all." 

The  wasted  hand  wandered  over  the  red  seams 
in  her  forehead,  as  the  girl  apparently  tried  to 
recall  something.  Then,  bending  forward,  she 
glanced  around  the  room  and  said,  "  Where  are 
the  children,  mother  ?  "  Mrs.  Sharon  was  pre- 
pared to  answer  what  she  fully  expected  would 
be  Katie's  first  question.  "  Oh,  their  father  came 
and  took  them  a  few  days  after  the  fire.  He 
took  the  jewelry  and  money,  too,  but  gave  me 
one  hundred  dollars  to  use  for  you  ;  and  said  he 
was  very  grateful  to  you  for  saving  the  children 
and  valuables.  He  was  very  sorry  you  were  so 
badly  burned,  and  wanted  to  send  a  doctor  and 


38  STORM  SWEPT. 


nurse,  but  I  thanked  him  and  told  him  I  thought 
I  could  get  along  all  right. 

He  called  you  a  heroine,  and  said  some  day, 
when  you  were  better,  he  would  come  and  see 
you.  I  don't  suppose  he  will  though.  He  said 
that,  as  their  home  was  destroyed,  and  he  had 
urgent  business  in  Europe,  they  would  all  take  a 
voyage  together,  for  he  did  not  like  to  leave  his 
wife  and  children  behind  him,  especially  after 
they  had  come  so  near  to  a  final  separation. 

Katie  was  pleased  to  hear  that  Mr.  Dean  had 
taken  the  children  and  glad  too  that  he  had  com- 
mended her  for  her  bravery,  but  she  was  sorry  to 
learn  they  had  gone  to  Europe.  How  she  would 
have  liked  to  have  seen  those  dear  little  creatures, 
tenfold  more  dear  to  her  now,  knowing  she  had 
been  the  means  of  saving  them  from  a  dreadful 
death. 

"  But,  mother,  will  he  know  where  to  find  me  ?" 
she  asked  after  a  few  moments'  reflection. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  selected  this  house  for  us,  he 
thought  you  would  get  well  faster  out  here  in 
the  country,"  and  again  Katie  thought  how  very 
kind  Mr.  Dean  was. 

The  days  wore  on  and  strength  returned,  in  a 
measure,  to  Katie,  who  would  sit  for  hours  in  a 


A  DEED  OF  DAN  A' A' ESS. 


39 


comfortable  arm-chair,  her  feet  resting  on  a 
wadded  foot-stool  which  her  mother  had  thought- 
fully provided  for  her.  One  thing  troubled 
Katie,  though  she  hardly  dared  voice  the 
thought ;  but  as  time  passed  she  came  to  realize 
that,  although  her  general  health  was  returning, 
her  feet  were  almost  useless,  and  she  must  here- 
after be  a  cripple.  To  one  who  had  been 
as  active  as  Katie,  it  was  a  dreadful  cross  to 
bear ;  but  she  bore  it  like  a  true  woman.  Her 
mother  noticed  with  what  difficulty  she  moved 
about  from  one  place  to  another,  and  observed 
that  she  almost  continually  sat  in  the  cretonne- 
covered  chair,  with  her  feet  resting  on  the 
wadded  top  of  the  box-like  foot-stool.  The  med- 
icine had  done  its  work,  in  one  way,  and  Mrs. 
Sharon  was  pleased  with  the  effect  produced  as 
far  as  keeping  Katie  stupefied  till  after  the 
children  were  disposed  of  was  concerned ;  but 
whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry  that  she  was  injured 
for  life  was  another  question. 

The  ship  with  Matt  on  board  had  been  two 
weeks  behind  time  ;  but  Mrs.  Sharon  had  begun 
her  scheme,  and  she  said  to  herself  she  might  as 
well  keep  it  up  and  accomplish  her  purpose — one 
might  as  well  be  hung  for  a  sheep  as  a  lamb — 


40  STORM-SWEPT. 


but  she  had  not  counted  on  any  lasting  effect 
from  the  drugs.  But  Matt  came,  and  the  children 
went,  and  Matt  went  again  ;  and  now  it  was  the 
first  of  May  and  high  time  to  be  getting  to  work 
somewhere.  Katie  greatly  enjoyed  their  sojourn 
in  the  country  during  those  early  spring  days. 
She  could  see  such  pleasant  sights  from  her  win- 
dow. Unused  to  country  landscapes,  every  day's 
unfolding  was  a  new  pleasure  to  her.  She  felt 
that  her  mother  had  been  very  kind  to  leave  the 
busy  city  life  and  come  with  her  out  into  the 
great  wide  open  country,  where  she  could  fast 
regain  strength  and  health ;  and  now,  to  have 
lost  the  use  of  her  feet,  it  worried  her  greatly,  for 
fear  she  was  be  a  lifelong  burden  to  her. 

One  afternoon  she  sat  gazing  out  over  the  line 
of  hills  then  enveloped  in  a  misty  haze,  the  soft, 
warm,  sweet-scented  breeze  sending  a  pleasant 
sensation  to  the  very  tips  of  her  fingers.  Beyond 
the  hills  lay  the  city  in  which  she  had  previously 
resided.  How  she  longed  to  see  the  children, 
and  hear  their  merry  prattle,  and  with  the  wish 
was  born  a  resolution  that,  some  day,  when  she 
was  able,  she  would  go  and  search  out  grandma 
Van  Alstyne,  and  perhaps  by  that  time  Mr. 
Dean's  family  would  be  back  from  Europe. 


A  DEED  OF  DARKNESS.  41 

Then  came  the  thought  of  her  poor  crippled  feet, 
but  she  resolved  that,  in  some  way,  she  would 
carry  her  new-born  resolution  into  effect. 

How  frequently  we  promise  ourselves  that 
some  act  shall  be  performed,  but  procrastination 
creeps  in  and  time  speeds  on !  A  word  we  would 
have  spoken  is  left  unsaid ;  a  deed  we  would 
have  performed  is  left  undone.;  a  resolve  we  have 
made  is  not  carried  out  ;  and  stern  fate,  interpos- 
ing, bars  the  doors  we  once  could  have  opened, 
and  the  paths  in  the  labyrinth  are  as  intricate  as 
ever;  the  meshes  of  the  net  are  as  tangled  as 
before.  Mrs.  Sharon  had  been  to  the  post-office 
for  their  weekly  paper.  She  thought  best  to 
keep  posted  about  outside  things,  for  there 
might  be  something  of  interest  to  her,  which 
it  would  not  be  well  to  miss.  She  dropped  off 
her  bonnet  and  shawl  and  sat  down  to  rest 
awhile,  and  Katie  looked  over  the  "wants" 
column.  That  was  her  first  thought  now  that 
she  was  better,  but  what  earthly  thing  could  a 
girl  do  but  sew  who  could  not  walk?  She  had 
heretofore  done  second  work,  and  taken  care  of 
children  ;  but  as  for  sewing,  that  seemed  out  of 
the  question. 

"  Just  in  luck,  mother,  I  guess  this  is  the  place 


42  STORM-SWEPT. 


for  us ;  "  and  she  read  :  "  Wanted,  a  first-class 
laundress  and  assistant.  Call  on  Mrs.  Catlin, 
Principal,  Young  Ladies'  Seminary,  No.  —  West 
Chapel  St.,  New  Haven." 

"  That's  just  the  place,  Katie,  though  I  don't 
know  what  you  can  do,  only  clear-starching." 

"  Never  you  mind,  mother,  Katie  has  the  use 
of  her  hands  yet.  I  shall  have  a  board  made  to 
order,  and  I  can  sit  and  iron  collars  and  cuffs  and 
small  pieces;  and  I'm  sure  I  can  help  rinse  -and 
wring  clothes  too.  So  if  we  can  only  get  it  we 
shall  do  nicely.  Do  go  right  away  and  see  about 
it,  mother,  before  any  one  gets  ahead  of  you." 

Mrs.  Sharon  did  go  early  and  was  fortunate 
enough  to  secure  the  situation.  Katie  was  jubi- 
lant. Perhaps  now  she  would  have  a  chance  to 
pick  up  a  little  learning;  if  she  only  could. 
Reluctantly  she  would  bid  good-bye  to  the  home- 
like cottage  where  they  had  lived  but  a  few 
months ;  but  her  hopes  were  buoyed  up  by  the 
prospect  of  a  chance  to  earn  something,  thereby 
lessening  her  mother's  burden.  She  did  not 
know  that  it  was  that  mother's  own  hand  which 
had  brought  on  their  misfortune,  she  did  not 
know  that  at  that  moment  Mr.  Dean  was  bowed 
down  with  inconsolable  grief  over  the  loss  of  his 


A  DEED  OF  DAKA'A'ESS.  43 

loved  ones ;  neither  was  she  aware  that  her 
brother  Matt  was  scudding  over  the  blue  waters 
of  the  Atlantic  with  fifty  dollars  of  ill-gotten 
money  in  his  pocket,  which  he  considered  was 
well  earned  ;  but  he  would  have  thrown  it  over- 
board rather  than  have  Katie  learn  how  it  had 
come  into  his  possession. 

Had  she  known  these  things,  dire  would  have 
been  the  imprecations  heaped  upon  that  mother's 
head ;  and  if  Katie  had  been  obliged  to  travel  on 
her  knees,  she  would  have  found  her  way  to  Mr. 
Dean  in  order  to  tell  him  of  the  dastardly  deed 
which  had  been  perpetrated.  But  in  blissful 
ignorance  of  these  facts,  on  the  last  night  of  their 
stay  in  that  cosy  cottage,  Katie  slept  and  dreamed 
of  the  night  when  she  sat  by  the  children  and 
sang  Mother  Goose  Melodies  till  the  weary  eye- 
lids closed  in  slumber,  only  to  be  awakened  by 
the  awful  clang  of  fire-bells,  and  she  rose  in  her 
bed  shrieking, 

"  Our  box,  sixty-three,  fire,  fire  !  "  Her  mother 
overheard  her  and  quickly  came  in  to  quiet  her, 
for  she  did  not  wish  Katie  to  think  nor  talk  much 
about  the  fire,  hoping  that,  in  time,  most  of  the 
occurrences  in  connection  with  the  event  would 
be  eliminated  from  her  mind.  Up  to  a  compar- 


44  STORM-SWEPT. 


atively  recent  date,  Mrs.  Sharon  had  been  a  hard 
working,  upright,  honest  woman  ;  but  the  sight 
of  a  fortune  in  jewels  and  money  had  kindled  in 
her  heart  a  latent  fire  of  greed  ;  and  the  tempter 
had  softly  whispered  of  a  way  whereby  she  could 
make  that  fortune  her  own,  and  she  had  thus  far  had 
plain-sailing.  The  gems,  worth  several  thousand 
of  dollars,  were  secreted  in  a  place  of  safety,  yet 
occupying  so  prominent  a  position  that  she  could 
almost  continually  keep  her  eye  upon  them. 
Katie,  of  course,  knew  nothing  of  their  presence 
in  the  house ;  neither  did  she  imagine  her 
mother  capable  of  stooping  to  such  measures  of 
treachery  and  deception.  Mrs.  Sharon  did  not 
dare  to  offer  them  for  sale  for  fear  of  their  being 
recognized  ;  so  she  contented  herself  with  keep- 
ing them  as  her  own  property,  while  Katie  im- 
plicitly believed  the  story  she  had  told  her,  and 
rejoiced  to  feel  that  through  her  instrumentality 
a  happy  family  remained  unbroken,  and  the  gems 
of  which  she  knew  Mrs.  Delfn  to  be  so  proud, 
were  saved  from  destruction  by  the  flames. 

In  another  week  Katie  and  her  mother  were 
settled  inmates  of  Mrs.  Catlin's  establishment. 
Besides  the  cretonne-covered  chair  and  footstool, 
which  Mrs.  Sharon  had  brought  for  Katie,  an 


A  DEED  OF  DARKNESS.  45 


invalid  chair  was  provided,  in  which  she  could 
wheel  herself  about  from  one  room  to  another. 
In  a  few  months  she  was  considered  an  indis- 
pensable adjunct  to  the  seminary  ;  for,  with  a 
little  application,  Katie's  ringers  soon  learned  to 
darn  nicely  ;  and  many  rips  and  rents  were  re- 
paired for  the  girls,  stockings  were  darned,  and 
buttons  sewed  on,  to  say  nothing  of  the  very 
creditable  appearance  of  the  fine  laces  which  she 
carefully  laundried  for  the  more  wealthy  young 
ladies  who  attended  the  school. 


46  STORM-SWEPT. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   RARE   THANKSGIVING. 

"  Beneath  the  spreading  heavens, 

No  creature  but  is  fed, 
And  He  who  feeds  the  ravens 
Shall  give  His  children  bread." 

HE  Faith  Orphan  Asylum  in  the  city 
of  New  Haven  is  an  institution  con- 
ducted on  the  principle  which  its  name 
indicates;  having  no  capital,  being 
wholly  dependent  on  whatever  contributions 
its  friends  see  fit  to  offer.  One  hundred  or 
more  little  waifs  are  continually  being  cared 
for  in  both  body  and  soul,  a  band  of  Christian 
men  and  women  having  charge  of  the  institution, 
and  with  care  and  good  judgment  disbursing  what- 
ever funds  or  other  gifts  are  placed  at  their  dis- 
posal. Ofttimes  the  matron  does  not  know 
where  the  next  day's  meals  are  coming  from ; 
but  in  some  way  or  other  the  Lord  always  pro- 
vides. 


A  RARE   THANKSGIVING. 


47 


The  harvest  was  past.  There  had  been  a  great 
deal  of  rain,  and  the  corn  had  not  thriven  as  well 
as  usual.  Potatoes  rotted,  and  grapes  mildewed, 
apples  were  wormy,  and  turnips  pithy,  cabbages 
were  all  leaf,  and  pumpkins  were  coarse-grained 
and  tasteless ;  and,  to  cap  the  climax,  large  quan- 
tities of  hay  had  spoiled  in  the  making,  therefore 
farmers  in  general  were  pretty  blue,  and  you 
know  it  is  from  the  farm  that  our  chief  Thanks- 
giving-day supplies  must  come.  Funds  were  low, 
provisions  were  slow  in  coming  in,  it  was  nearing 
the  middle  of  November  and  there  was  scarcely 
a  dollar  in  the  treasury.  Occasionally  some 
kind  farmer  would  furnish  several  bushels  of 
potatoes  or  turnips,  a  grocer  would  send  them  a 
barrel  of  flour,  a  baker  would  call  around  with 
several  baskets  of  bread,  a  milkman  would  bring 
a  can  of  milk,  or  a  butcher  would  send  in  a 
quarter  of  beef ;  but  somehow  they  were  forgetting 
or  growing  weary  in  well  doing.  The  middle  of 
November  was  come  and  there  was  barely  enough 
to  furnish  very  meagre  fare  for  the  inmates  of 
the  institution.  The  matron  knew  the  children 
were  one  and  all  expecting  a  grand  thanksgiving 
feast.  She  had  heard  them  talking  of  it  as  they 
played  together,  and  had  seen  them  holding  mimic 


48  STORM-SWEPT. 


dinners,  where  stones  and  chips  and  mud-pies 
underwent  wonderful  changes  in  imagination  ;  and 
now,  though  dreading  the  task,  she  felt  it  her  duty 
to  let  them  know  something  how  matters  stood. 
The  children  were  assembled  in  the  schoolroom, 
and  had  just  finished  morning  devotions  when 
the  matron  entered,  spoke  a  few  words  to  the 
teacher ;  then,  her  voice  trembling  with  emotion, 
addressed  the  school. 

"  Dear  children,  I  fear  I  have  a  great  dis- 
appointment in  store  for  you.  For  some  reason 
our  friends  have  been  less  liberal  than  usual ;  and 
according  to  the  present  outlook  we  shall  all  have 
to  go  without  our  thanksgiving  dinner.  How- 
ever, if  our  hearts  are  right,  we  can  give  thanks 
to  God  for  his  goodness  in  providing  us  with 
plain  food,  and  He  will  smile  on  us  as  brightly  as 
though  we  were  rejoicing  over  a  feast.  We  can 
have  a  thanksgiving  in  our  hearts  anyway  ;  and 
trust  that  next  year  we  may  be  more  prospered, 
and  that  having  gone  without  this  time,  we  shall 
then  be  all  the  better  prepared  to  render  abundant 
thanks  to  Him  who  has  always  stood  near  when 
the  clouds  of  trouble  were  darkest.  I  tell  you 
early,  children,  in  order  that  you  may  be  ready 
for  the  disappointment." 


A  RARE  THANKSGIVING. 


With  tears  in  her  eyes  and  in  her  voice,  the 
matron  left  the  room,  and  many  sorrowful  little 
faces  turned  toward  the  teacher  as  she  ascended 
the  platform  and  stood  by  the  desk.  Touching 
the  bell,  she  soon  had  the  attention  of  every 
scholar ;  then  said,  "  Children,  how  many  of  you 
have  faith  in  prayer?"  Every  little  hand  was 
raised. 

"  How  many  of  you  have  faith  strong  enough 
to  believe  if  we  each  pray  faithfully  and  ex- 
pectantly, morning  and  night  until  Thanksgiving- 
day,  that  the  Lord  will  provide  for  us  a  thanks- 
giving dinner?  " 

Again  every  little  hand  was  lifted  high. 

"  Very  well  !     We  will  now  unite  in  prayer." 

Each  head  was  bowed  as  the  teacher  prayed 
earnestly  that  God  would  remember  the  lonely 
orphans  who  had  no  kind  fathers  and  mothers  to 
provide  for  them  a  thanksgiving  dinner,  ending 
her  petition  with  saying  that  every  little  one 
present  faithfully  believed  that  whatsoever  they 
asked  in  Jesus'  name  they  would  surely  receive. 
As  they  raised  their  heads  the  little  faces  shone 
with  expectant  joy ;  and,  with  light  hearts,  all 
went  about  their  lessons.  At  night  they  repeated 
their  prayers,  and  each  succeeding  morning  and 


50  STORM-SWEPT. 

night  found  the  little  orphan  children  beseeching 
the  Great  Giver  of  all  good  and  perfect  gifts  to 
send  them  the  much  desired  Thanksgiving-day 
feast.  Day  after  day  went  by  with  no  special 
gifts  sent  in,  only  a  dollar  here,  and  a  dollar  there, 
just  enough  to  keep  things  going,  and  well  that 
it  was  so,  for  a  by-law  of  the  institution  main- 
tained that  under  no  circumstances  should  the 
institution  ever  contract  one  penny  of  debt ;  the 
founders  having  had  implicit  faith  that  the  Lord 
would  always  provide.  The  faith  of  the  children 
did  not  waver.  If  older  persons  did  but  pos- 
sess the  faith  of  children,  how  much  more 
contentedly  would  life's  burdens  be  borne,  and 
how  many  dark  torrents  of  trouble  would  be 
safely  bridged  over. 

The  children  dreamed  of  the  grand  feast  they 
would  have,  and  talked  about  it  as  though  it  were 
a  settled  fact  that  they  should  have  all  the  good 
things  to  eat  that  could  be  thought  of.  The 
night  before  Thanksgiving  was  come,  and  as  the 
little  white-robed  forms  knelt  at  their  bedsides 
they  prayed  again  that  by  the  morrow  the  Lord 
would  put  it  into  some  one's  heart  to  send  them 
some  of  the  good  things  which  He  had  given. 
Morning  came  and  the  inmates  of  the  asylum 


A  RAKE  THANKSGIVING. 


were  assembled  for  devotions  in  the  schoolroom, 
which  on  Sundays  and  holidays  served  as  a  chapel, 
and  on  this  bright  Thanksgiving  morning  all  were 
paying  strict  attention  to  the  president,  a  worthy 
minister  of  the  gospel,  as  he  told  the  children  of 
the  origin  of  Thanksgiving-day.  He  related  to 
them  the  narrative  of  the  Puritans  setting  apart 
a  day  for  fasting,  and  prayer,  which  same  day  was 
turned  into  one  of  feasting  and  rejoicing  by  the 
timely  arrival  of  a  ship-load  of  provisions ;  then 
added,  that  although  those  present  were  not 
obliged  to  fast,  as  there  was  yet  the  ordinary 
supply  of  food,  still  he  trusted  that,  in  their 
hearts,  all  would  thank  the  Gracious  Father  that 
their  lives  were  spared,  that  they  had  a  comfort- 
able dwelling-place,  and  food  and  clothing  suffi- 
cient for  present  need.  Then  all  joined  in  repeat- 
ing the  Lord's  prayer.  As  the  trembling  voices 
uttered  the  words,  "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread,"  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

The  prayer  being  finished,  the  door  was  opened, 
and  there  stood  a  man  bearing  on  his  shoulders  a 
huge  sack  full  to  overflowing  with  plump  dressed 
turkeys,  while  behind  him  came  another  man  car- 
rying a  mammoth  hamper  containing  choice 
viands,  fruits,  nuts  and  confections.  What  a  joy- 


STORM-SWEPT. 


ful  shout  went  up  from  the  children  !  "  The  Lord 
has  sent  us  a  Thanksgiving  dinner,  we  knew  He 
would ;  we  knew  He  would."  Confusion  pre- 
vailed. The  little  ones  danced  and  capered  about, 
they  laughed  and  clapped  their  hands,  while  the 
white-haired  pastor  bowed  his  head  and  said. 
"  Praised  be  the  Lord."  Then  the  teacher 
explained  the  words  of  the  children,  telling  how 
they  had  daily  prayed  for  a  Thanksgiving  feast 
and  how  implicit  was  their  faith  in  God.  Deposit- 
ing their  burdens,  the  men  said  there  were  others 
with  provisions  at  the  door,-  if  some  one  would 
show  them  where  to  put  them.  President,  matron, 
teacher  and  children  all  trooped  down  the  stairs 
to  the  front  door,  opposite  which  stood  a  large 
truck  drawn  by  four  strong  horses ;  and  behind 
the  truck  in  line  were  half  a  dozen  farmers' 
wagons. 

Then  the  unloading  began,  and  what  was  not 
there !  Bag  after  bag,  and  parcel  after  parcel 
found  its  way  into  the  almost  empty  larder  of  the 
orphan  asylum.  Potatoes,  turnips,  apples,  nuts, 
pickles,  sweet-meats,  delicious  home-made  bread, 
real  old-fashioned  pumpkin  pies,  and,  oh — I  can- 
not tell  you  all  that  was  brought  in  for  the  chil- 
dren. Great  tears  rolled  down  the  cheeks  of 


A  RARE  THANKSGIVING. 


53 

more  than  one  sunbrowned  farmer  driving  home- 
ward over  the  rough  roads,  as  he  thought  of  the 
sight  he  had  witnessed.  Busy  hands  went  to 
work,  and  before  many  hours  there  was  spread 
such  a  feast  as  many  of  those  little  ones  had 
never  before  seen  ;  in  truth,  numbers  did  not 
know  the  taste  of  many  of  the  viands  spread 
before  them.  Ranged  about  the  tables  were  the 
children  and  as  the  reverend  pastor  rose  to  say 
grace,  every  little  one  joined  in  with  him  ;  and 
such  a  thanksgiving  as  that  prayer  was  ! 

Then  they  began  to  demolish  the  eatables,  and 
it  would  have  done  your  heart  good  to  see  the 
sight.  If  well-to-do  people  only  realized  how 
happy  little  hearts  could  be  made,  they  would 
find  themselves  amply  repaid  for  sending  to  them 
from  time  to  time  a  portion  of  their  bounteous 
supply.  I  doubt  if  throughout  the  country  there 
was  a  more  genuine  Thanksgiving  than  that 
which  was  spent  at  the  Faith  Orphan  Asylum  ; 
and  to  this  day  there  is  not  remaining  one  of 
those  children  who  could  be  made  to  waver  in 
their  faith  in  God  and  prayer. 

One  of  the  worthy  people  into  whose  heart  had 
been  put  a  resolve  to  give  to  the  Lord  of  his 
store,  and  who  had  been  guided  by  an  unseen 


STORM-SWEPT. 


hand  to  deposit  his  thanksgiving  offering  at  the 
door  of  the  Faith  Orphan  Asylum,  was  Deacon 
Elijah  Argyle.  He  had  driven  in  from  West- 
bridge,  a  distance  of  several  miles,  and  had  wit- 
nessed the  evidences  of  the  children's  faith  in 
prayer.  His  wife  too  had  sent  a  bundle  of  home- 
knit  stockings  and  mittens;  they  being  the  prod- 
uct of  her  spare  moments.  She  had  often  spoken 
to  her  husband  of  the  little  ones  in  the  asylum, 
and  not  infrequently  thought  of  some  time  visit- 
ing the  institution  with  a  view  to  adopting  some 
little  waif,  and  bringing  her  out  into  the  beautiful 
country  to  grow  up  in  the  midst  of  it  all ;  and 
also  to  be  a  comfort  to  them  in  their  declining 
years.  It  was  ever  so  long  since  they  had  laid  to 
rest,  in  the  quiet  country  churchyard,  a  little  sun- 
beam which  had  been  lent  to  them  for  three 
happy  years.  As  Deacon  Argyle  was  returning 
from  bringing  in  his  last  sack  of  vegetables,  he 
saw  standing  in  the  wide  hall-way  a  little  maiden 
of  perhaps  three  summers.  She  was  looking  up 
at  him  with  wide-open  eyes,  her  short  black  curls 
clustering  about  the  round  rosy  face.  Her  pink 
calico  apron  was  drawn  closely  about  her  chubby 
little  form,  as  she  stood  with  her  hands  behind 
her.  She  caught  the  twinkle  of  kindliness  that 


55 


A  RARE  THANKSGIVING. 

lit  up  the  gray  eyes  of  the  deacon,  as  he  said  : 
"  Come  to  me,  little  one,  here  is  a  bright  penny 
for  you." 

She  walked  slowly  forward  and  held  out  one  fat 
little  hand,  while  the  other  still  remained  behind 
her.  She  took  the  proffered  nickel,  and  then,  as 
if  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  brought  forward 
the  other  hand,  and,  holding  both  up  toward  the 
deacon,  looked  earnestly  into  his  honest  face  as 
she  said,  "  I  will  tiss  you  for  it,  I  love  you." 

Deacon  Argyle  caught  her  up  in  his  great  strong 
arms,  and  kissed  the  merry  little  face.  She 
placed  one  hand  on  each  rough  cheek  and  said : 
"  I  ain't  dot  any  papa.  Annie  has  ;  a  big  man 
with  long  whiskers." 

She  looked  down  at  the  short  gray  beard  of  the 
deacon  as  she  added,  "  He  couldn't  take  me  'cause 
he  didn't  have  room  for  only  one  little  girl,  and 
I'm  so  lonesome." 

Then  she  cried  big  salt  tears  that  rolled  down 
on  the  deacon's  rough  overcoat  ;  and  he  held  the 
poor  little  tot  closer  in  his  strong  embrace ;  she 
seemed  so  much  like  his  own  little  Ellen.  With 
the  child  still  in  his  arms,  he  sought  out  the 
matron  of  the  institution  in  order  to  find  whether 
the  little  one  was  to  be  had  for  the  asking. 


56  STORM-SWEPT. 

There  were  requirements  necessary :  namely,  a 
person  adopting  a  child  must  be  a  Christian,  and 
possessed  either  of  means  or  of  a  substantial 
mode  of  gaining  a  livelihood,  in  order  to  insure  a 
proper  training  of  mind,  and  that  the  child  might 
have  a  prospect  of  a  respectable  education  and 
support. 

"  Well,"  said  the  deacon,  "  I'd  like  the  refusal 
of  this  little  one  till  I  can  go  home  and  get  my 
wife  to  come  and  see  her.  She's  been  talkin'  for 
some  time  of  takin'  a  little  girl  for  our  own. 
"  Ours  died  fourteen  years  ago,  and  this  baby 
is  e'en  a'most  the  image  of  her.  I  own  a  good- 
sized  farm  in  Westbridge — Primrose  Bank,  we 
call  it — you  may  have  heard  of  it — besides  havin' 
a  little  bank  account ;  and  as  I'm  first  deacon  in 
the  church,  I  don't  see  as  there's  any  hindrance 
that  way."  Reluctantly  leaving  the  little  one  be- 
hind him,  Deacon  Argyle  started  for  home.  He 
was  half-a-mind  to  turn  back  and  take  the  little 
one  along  with  him  now  ;  but  he'd  got  the  refusal 
of  her  anyway,  and  he  guessed  he'd  better  talk 
about  it  Avith  mother  first. 

Mother  was  well  pleased  at  her  husband's 
description  of  the  little  orphan,  and  wanted  to 
start  right  off  the  next  day  to  see  about  adopting 


A  RAKE  THANKSGIVING.  57 


her,  and  she  did.  Her  great  motherly  heart  went 
out  to  the  little  motherless  one,  and  as  she 
cuddled  her  in  her  arms,  as  they  jolted  along  over 
the  rough  country  roads,  it  seemed  as  if  she  had 
gone  back  fourteen  years  of  her  life  to  the  time 
when  she  had  clasped  in  her  arms  her  own  little 
blossom  that  had  been  so  early  transplanted  to 
the  beautiful  garden  of  Heaven.  Her  name  should 
be  Ellen  Douglas  Argyle — that  had  been  the  name 
of  their  lost  one  ;  and  this  should  be  another  little 
Nellie.  The  child  was  a  happy  little  body,  and 
grew  up  free  and  innocent,  in  companionship  with 
the  birds  and  flowers  of  the  field.  She  attended 
the  village  school,  and  had  a  few  playmates  among 
the  children  belonging  to  the  scattered  families  in 
the  old  town  of  Westbridge. 

As  the  years  sped  on  she  forgot  that  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Argyle  were  not  her  own  parents,  neither 
could  she  remember  any  other  home  than  the  old 
house  with  the  long  slanting  roof,  under  whose 
eaves  were  the  mud-swallows' nests  in  summer; 
and  where  in  winter  hung  long  icicles  almost  as 
tall  as  herself,  and  which  she  could  readily  reach. 
Then  there  was  the  bank  in  front  of  the  house,  a 
rather  steep  descent  down  to  the  road,  and  Nellie 
could  not  remember  the  time  when  she  had  not 


S8  STORM-SWEPT. 


gathered  there  handfuls  of  yellow  primroses.  If 
any  one  had  never  told  her  she  was  adopted ;  if 
she  could  have  lived  on  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the 
fact,  as  her  foster-parents  intended  she  should, 
perhaps  the  lines  of  her  life  would  have  been  cast 
in  different  places.  She  might  have  grown  up 
and  lived  on  in  the  humdrum  way  so  many  had 
before  done  in  the  dull  old  town  ;  nothing  out  of 
the  common  way  ever  entering  her  sphere.  But 
things  were  ordered  otherwise  ;  and  there  came  a 
rude  awakening. 


THE  STRUGGLE  AT  THE  SPRING. 


59 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   STRUGGLE   AT   THE   SPRING. 

"  Oh,  bitter  words,  like  blasting  rain, 
And  life  is  never  the  same  again." 

N  the  Hepburne  lot  on  the  hill  stands 
an  old  button-ball  tree,  its  tall  gray 
trunk  surmounted  by  straggling 
branches,  with  here  and  there  a 
few  button-balls  swaying  ;  the  whole  being 
boldly  outlined  against  a  hilly  horizon.  A  part 
of  the  tree's  roots  are  bare,  and  these  projecting, 
overhang  a  basin  of  some  four  or  five  feet  in 
diameter,  and  perhaps  fifteen  inches  deep  ;  where 
up  through  the  roots  and  mosses  bubble  the 
waters  of  a  never-failing  spring,  clear  as  crystal. 
One  can  almost  count  the  pebbles  at  the  bottom 
of  the  pool.  The  leaves  from  the  button-ball 
and  the  surrounding  bushes  fall  into  the  basin, 
and,  after  whirling  around  for  a  few  seconds,  are 
carried  by  the  centrifugal  force  to  the  edge  of  the 
pool,  there  forming  a  closely  matted  border. 


60  STORM-SWEPT. 


Over  the  leaf-strewn  margin  bend  feathery  ferns 
and  tall  spikes  of  cardinal  flowers,  while  around 
the  plant-stalks  winds  the  brilliant  yellow  dodder. 
The  ground  all  about  the  base  of  the  tree  is 
covered  with  a  velvety  mass  of  dark  green  moss, 
in  which  grows  sprays  of  partridge-vine  dotted 
with  bright  red  berries. 

Overhead  shines  the  soft  June  sun,  warm  yet 
soothing,  giving  forth  so  refreshing  a  warmth  that 
one  feels  it  to  his  very  finger-tips  and  sighs  to 
think  the  rare  June  days  speed  by  so  quickly.  On 
the  moss  beside  the  spring  reclines  a  girl  of  some 
ten  summers.  Occasionally  she  breathes  a  deep- 
drawn  sigh,  and  then  passionate  sobs  break  the 
prevailing  stillness,  frightening  away  the  robin 
who  has  ventured  to  drink  from  the  pool.  The 
lithe  form  trembles  violently  under  the  passionate 
fit  of  weeping  which  has  entire  control  of  the 
prostrate  child.  With  an  impatient  gesture  she 
starts  up,  and  resting  on  one  elbow  looks  down 
into  the  spring,  while  with  the  disengaged  hand 
she  dashes  back  a  tangled  mass  of  short  black 
curls  that  have  fallen  about  her  face.  The 
features  reflected  are  not  beautiful,  neither  are  they 
passable  just  now,  after  the  storm  of  weeping  in 
which  their  owner  had  been  indulging.  Her  fore- 


THE  STRUGGLE  AT  THE  SPRLVG.  6l 


head  is  rather  low,  eyes  of  dark  gray,  at  times 
snapping  like  fire  ;  a  thin,  straight  nose  ;  and 
small  mouth,  just  now  so  tightly  closed  that  the 
blood  is  forced  away  from  the  rather  thin  lips. 

The  girl  lies  so  still  that  the  robin  cautiously 
ventures  back  and  stands  poised  on  one  foot  as 
he  dips  his  beak  into  the  water,  then  throwing 
back  his  head,  quickly  swallows  a  few  drops  of 
the  liquid.  She  moves,  and  quick  as  a  flash  he  is 
away  and  up  in  the  branches  of  the  tree  singing 
or  scolding  as  if  he  would  burst  his  little  throat. 
Nellie's  silent  thoughts  find  vent  in  words:  — 
slowly  they  are  spoken,  the  voice  husky  with  sup- 
pressed emotion.  "  I  wonder  if  I  am  like  those 
leaves  down  there.  They  drop  off  the  tree,  the  wind 
whisks  them  around  and  into  the  spring,  then  they 
whirl  round  and  round  till  I  should  think  they'd 
be  dizzy,  and  all  of  a  sudden  go  plump  among  the 
hundreds  of  other  leaves  that  lie  matted  together 
there  on  the  bank.  If  you  didn't  keep  pretty  close 
watch  of  some  one  leaf  you  never  in  the  wide,  wide 
world  could  tell  which  tree  or  bush  it  came  from, 
and  I  don't  know  as  you  could  then,  for  they'd 
just  as  likely  as  not  get  all  mixed  up,  anyhow. 
There,  now,  that  little  button-ball  is  off  this 
tree,  of  course,  for  it's  the  only  one  of  the  kind 


62  STORM-SWEPT. 

around  here,  fora  longways.  The  world  is  made 
up,  I  s'pose,  of  people  that  get  mixed  up  just  as 
much  as  those  leaves  do  ;  and,  if  what  they  say 
is  true,  p'raps  nobody  does  know  where  I  do 
belong.  I'll  go  straight  home  and  ask  mother 
if  she  is  my  mother." 

The  child  arose  to  go,  but  something  arrested 
her  attention.  Her  nerves  were  under  great  ten- 
sion and  fairly  tingling  to  gain  a  little  relaxation. 
In  under  the  bank  where  she  had  been  resting, 
in  a  thick  black  coil,  lay  a  water-snake  sunning 
himself. 

"  H'm,  "  she  ejaculated,  "  I  ain't  afraid  of  you, 
I  guess  ; "  and  with  both  hands  she  picked  up  a 
large  stone  and  forcibly  threw  it  on  to  the  snake. 
The  missile  bounded  off  and  the  black  coil,  un- 
winding, rapidly  disappeared.  Nellie  recovered 
her  bonnet,  which  had  dropped  into  the  spring, 
and  then  sauntered  down  through  the  meadow, 
keeping  close  to  the  brookside,  where  wound  a 
narrow  footpath.  She  was  not  in  half  as  much 
of  a  hurry  as  she  had  been  before  discovering  the 
snake ;  consequently  she  trudged  along  absent- 
mindedly,  snipping  off  the  wild  carrot  blossoms, 
or  robbing  the  daisies  of  their  golden  crowns. 

Between- the  brook  and  the  house  down  the  hill 


THE  STRUGGLE  AT  THE  SPRING.  63 

was  a  field  of  finely  growing  young  millet.  From 
the  ten-acre  lot  on  the  other  side  of  the  house, 
Nellie  saw  her  father  hastening  toward  the  millet- 
field,  meanwhile  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
"  Hey,  there,  yeou  critters,  git  eout  o'  that  ere 
millet,  or  I'll  warm  ye."  But  the  cattle  were 
there  before  him  and  had  made  sad  havoc  among 
the  young  shoots.  Nellie  could  not  help  smiling  ; 
the  scene  was  certainly  ludicrous,  although  it  was 
through  her  neglect  that  the  bars  had  been  left 
down.  From  the  millet  her  mind  reverted  to  the 
party  of  school-children  who  were  going  berrying 
that  morning,  and  then  her  trouble  came  surging 
over  her  again.  Florence  Pritchard  was  to  be  one 
of  the  party,  and  Nellie  would  not  go  because 
Florence  was  going.  At  school,  the  day  before, 
the  two  girls  had  had  a  slight  altercation  which 
Florence  had  ended  by  the  retort,  "  Well,  you  ain't 
Nell  Argylc,  anyway  ;  you're  only  adopted,  and 
nobody  knows  where  you  do  belong." 

"  Only  adopted  !  "  What  could  she  mean  ? 
Over  and  over  in  her  brain,  Nellie  had  been  turn- 
ing the  words  of  that  angry  taunt.  All  through 
the  night,  as  she  restlessly  tossed  about,  she  had 
seen  those  hateful  words  staring  at  her  in  letters 
of  fire.  Whichever  way  she  turned  she  saw  them 


64  STORM-SWEPT. 


still.  She  had  eaten  no  breakfast,  and  her  mother, 
noticing  the  red  eyelids  and  poor  appetite,  had 
said,  as  soon  as  the  dishes  were  done,  "  I  am  afraid 
you  have  one  of  those  headaches  this  morning, 
dear ;  run  out  and  get  a  little  fresh  air  before  the 
sun  gets  higher,  It  always  does  you  good,  you 
know,"  so  Nellie,  who  needed  no  second  bidding, 
had  started  off  for  her  favorite  haunt,  the  spring. 
After  all,  she  had  concluded  it  was  best  to  go  and 
ask  mother  all  about  it,  and  know  for  certain 
whether  there  was  any  truth  in  what  Florence  had 
said. 

It  was  almost  ten  o'clock  when  this  decision 
was  reached.  Mrs.  Argyle  was  wondering  what 
kept  Nellie  so  long,  as  she  sat  in  the  back  door 
hulling  strawberries  only  just  picked  from  the 
garden-patch.  The  motherly  face  was  quite 
flushed  with  the  work  she  had  been  engaged  in, 
but  notwithstanding  her  fatigue  she  sat  humming 
an  old  church  tune.  The  berries  were  almost 
done  as  Nellie  came  up  the  garden  path,  on  each 
side  of  which  grew  just  such  old-fashioned  flowers 
as  thrived  in  the  dear  old  garden  where  I  have 
passed  many  happy  hours.  Tiger  and  yellow 
lilies  lifted  their  heads  above  the  more  modest 
spider-lilies,  while  white  and  purple  iris  contrasted 


THE  STRUGGLE  A  T  THE  SPRING.  65 

most  agreeably  with  the  brilliant  hues  of  the 
former.  Ribbon-grass  and  rosemary  grew  humbly 
at  the  foot  of  the  damask  rosebush ;  while  matri- 
mony and  single  red  rose  vines  tangled  together 
on  the  trellises  at  each  side  of  the  grape  arbor. 
Through  all  this  wealth  of  bloom  came  Nellie, 
her  sun-bonnet  dangling  by  the  strings,  but  it 
dropped  to  the  ground  as  she  sat  down  on  the 
white  doorstone,  and  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Argyle 
with  a  very  pitiful  face. 

"  What  is,  it,  dearie, — why,  isn't  your  head 
better  yet,  child  ? "  and  Mrs.  Argyle  tenderly 
stroked  the  curly  head  which  sank  sobbing  into  her 
lap.  When  the  heavy  sobs  ceased,  between  the 
lesser  ones  came  the  question,  "  Mother,  are  you 
my  real  mother?" 

Mrs.  Argyle  was  so  astounded  she  could  not 
think  for  an  instant  how  to  best  answer  the  child. 
Then  she  said,  "  Why  do  you  ask  that  question, 
Nellie?" 

"  Because  yesterday  at  school  Florence  Pritchard 
said  I  was  only  adopted,  and  that  nobody  knew 
where  I  did  belong." 

"  Florence  Pritchard  is  a  very  unkind  little  girl." 

"  But  ain't  you  my  own  mother,  truly  ?  Tell 
me  yes,  and  then  I  don't  care  what  any  one  says." 


66  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  Haven't  I  always  been  a  mother  to  you,  child  ?  " 
How  it  made  her  heart  ache — the  thought  that 
now  the  bond  of  love  which  had  so  closely  bound 
them  might  be  about  to  be  broken  asunder.  She 
could  not  bear  to  frame  the  words  which  might 
have  much  to  do  with  making  or  marring  Nellie's 
future.  She  could  not  know  how  the  news  would 
act  upon  the  child  when  aware  it  was  truth. 
Nellie's  answer,  and  another  question  were  already 
falling  on  her  ear. 

"  Yes,  you  have  always  been  a  mother  to  me, 
but  what  did  Florence  mean,  then  ?  " 

"  Nellie,  dear,  I  certainly  will  tell  you  truly, 
though  I  had  fully  intended  you  should  not  know 
for  years  yet,  and  perhaps  never  on  this  earth. 
However,  Florence's  meddling,  or  in  all  prob- 
ability, her  mother's,  makes  an  explanation 
really  necessary.  It  is  true  that  you  are  our 
adopted  daughter,  but  as  dear  to  us  as  our  own 
flesh  and  blood.  Years  ago  I  had  a  little  Nellie, 
bright  and  winsome,  who  grew  to  be  three  years 
old,  and  then  she  was  taken  away  from  us.  Only 
those  who  have  themselves  laid  away  their  little 
ones  can  ever  know  how  sad  our  lives  were,  and 
how  drearily  the  years  rolled  on.  As  one  by  one 
they  passed  away,  the  longing  desire  for  another 


THE  STRUGGLE  AT  THE  SPRING.  67 

little  sunbeam  to  come  and  brighten  our  home 
grew  stronger  and  stronger,  though  the  wound  at 
our  hearts  was  by  no  means  healed  over,  and  the 
first  little  Nellie  would  never  be  less  dear  to  us  : 
but,  if  possible,  far  dearer.  We  finally  decided 
that  some  day  we  would  go  in  search  of  some  little 
girl  who  needed  a  home.  When  that  decision  was 
reached,  it  seemed  as  if  the  way  was  directly  opened 
for  us.  One  Thanksgiving,  father  took  his  offering 
to  a  children's  home,  and  by  accident  or,  as  we 
always  said,  providentially,  came  across  you  ;  and 
the  moment  he  saw  you  loved  you,  for  you  looked 
so  much  like  our  lost  one.  You  were  then  in  an 
orphan  asylum,  but  they  gave  you  to  us  for  our 
own,  and  so  you  have  always  been  and  always 
shall  be." 

Nellie  was  listening  intently,  but  at  that  mo- 
ment Deacon  Argyle  came  up,  very  red  in  the 
face,  and  considerably  out  of  breath,  while  anger 
blazed  in  his  usually  kindly  eyes. 

"  Nellie,  did  you  leave  those  bars  down  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  shall  have  to  punish  you  severely.  It  was 
gross  carelessness,  mother,  I'm  afeard  the  millet 
is  about  ruined." 

Mrs.  Argyle  glanced  at  Nellie.     The  child  was 


68  STORM-SWEPT. 

so  full  of  pent-up  grief  she  could  not  have  her 
even  scolded  now. 

;"  She  did  not  do  it  intentionally;  did  you, 
child  ?  " 

Nellie  shook  her  head  which  was  bowed,  and 
resting  in  her  hands.  She  could  not  find  voice  to 
answer.  The  Deacon  caught  the  warning  glance 
cast  at  him  by  his  wife,  and  said  abruptly, 

"  What's  the  matter  now — anything  of  more 
consequence  than  my  three  acres  of  millet  ?  " 

"  Florence  Pritchard  has  taunted  our  little  girl 
with  being  an  adopted  child." 

Mr,  Argyle  bristled  up  all  in  an  instant. 

"  Them  Pritchards  are  a  meddlin'  lot ;  and  I'd 
thank  'em  to  mind  their  own  business." 

Though  occasionally  angry  with  her  for  a  mo- 
ment, still  he  loved  the  child  as  tende'rly  as  on 
the  day  of  their  first  meeting.  But  if  in  human 
nature  there  was  one  trait  more  than  another 
which  the  Deacon  could  not  in  any  wise  tolerate, 
it  was  meddling  gossiping;  and  to  think  they 
should  dare  attack  his  Nellie  was  altogether  too 
much  for  endurance.  The  anger  toward  her  died 
out  of  his  voice  as  he  said, 

"  Of  course  you're  our  girl.  Didn't  the  Lord 
and  the  law  give  her  to  us,  wife  ?  If  Mrs. 


THE  STRUGGLE  AT  THE  SPRING.  69 

Pritchard  don't  stop  meddlin'  with  my  affairs,  I'll 
have  her  brought  afore  the  church.  I  will,  sure 
as  preachin'.  She's  got  altogether  too  long  a 
tongue.  Better  be  lookin'  arter  her  own  darter, 
instead  o'  meddlin'  with  other  folkses.  Don't 
you  mind  a  word  they  say,  Nellie.  You  can 
hold  your  head  as  high  as  the  next  one,  for  there 
aint  no  common  blood  in  your  veins.  You've 
got  the  old  blue  blood  in  you,  same  as  all  the 
Argyles  has,  and  don't  you  mind  'em. 

"  Adopted,"  he  muttered  as  he  started  back  to 
his  work.  "  "  H'm,  guess  I  know  a  thing  or  two  yet. 
Don't  s'pose  I'm  quite  such  an  old  dolt  as  some 
folks  seem  to  think  I  am,  to  adopt  such  a  little 
waif  out  of  an  asylum  and  will  her  all  our  property 
and  bring  her  up  like  a  Christian  without  findin' 
out  as  much  as  I  could  about  her.  It  don't  make 
any  difference  how  much  I  know  or  don't  know, 
there  can't  nobody  make  me  believe  she  ain't  aris- 
tocracy, and  she's  my  darter,  too,  by  law  ;  and  some 
day  I  hope  the  poor  leetle  creeter  '11  know  who 
her  own  kin  be  or  was.  Hope  in  all  goodness 
'twon't  be  till  arter  wife  and  I  are  over  yonder  in 
the  churchyard  ;  fer  I  couldn't  noways  bear  to 
give  her  up  now.  Perhaps  she  hain't  got  any 
folks  and  perhaps  she  has.  Them  Pritchards  " — 


70  STORM-SWEPT. 

he  said  no  more  but  went  to  work  hoeing  his 
potato  patch  with  a  vengeance. 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Argyle  and  Nellie  went 
into  the  little  summer  kitchen,  a  shed-like  addition 
to  the  regular  living-room,  but  sheltered  from  the 
weather  by  a  sudden  rise  in  the  land,  against  which 
was  built  a  stone  wall.  Along  the  edge  of  the 
grassy  knoll  and  slanting  over  to  the  shed  were 
trellises  where  wild  grape-vines  clambered,  thus 
keeping  the  kitchen  comparatively  well  shaded, 
and  at  the  same  time  a  pleasant  place  to  work  in. 
Mrs.  Argyle  went  about  preparing  dinne"r,  making 
the  short-cake  while  Nellie  mashed  and  sweet- 
ened the  berries.  Nellie  said  very  little,  never 
once  referring  to  her  new-found  knowledge.  She 
seemed  stunned  by  the  facts  as  presented  to  her. 
Mr.  Argyle's  words  did  not  seem  to  weigh  much 
upon  her  mind.  She  felt  he  was  endeavoring  to 
make  the  blow  less  severe,  yet  she  would  like  to 
know  what  he  meant,  and  whether  she  really  was 
somebody  in  particular.  She  did  venture  the 
remark, — 

"  What  did  father  mean  by  blue  blood, 
mother  ?  "  and  the  answer, 

"  I  have  told  you  all  I  can,  Nellie  dear,"  silenced 
her  ;  but  it  aroused  another  question  in  her  mind, 


THE  STRUGGLE  AT  THE  SPRING.  71 

and  that  was,  "  Could  there  be  more,  that  for  some 
reason  or  other  could  not  be  told  to  her  ?  "  Then 
she  bravely  and  sensibly  reasoned  that  she  would 
wait  till  they  should  see  fit  to  make  further  rev- 
elations, if  such  there  were  to  be  made.  The 
child  of  ten  had  grown  years  older  in  the  last  few 
hours.  A  cross  had  been  given  to  her  to  carry, 
which  would  be  burdensome  for  years  yet  to  come. 
Another  thing  mother  had  said,  though ;  and 
that  was,  she  should  see  the  dress  she  wore  when 
she  came  to  the  asylum.  Perhaps  she  should 
find  a  little  comfort  in  that.  Dinner  was  over  and 
the  house  tidied  up  for  the  Sabbath,  and  Mrs. 
Argyle  was  about  to  fulfill  her  promise  to  Nellie, 
when  the  west  door  opened  unceremoniously  and 
a  neighbor  walked  in.  She  removed  her  hat  and 
using  it  as  a  fan,  sat  down  in  the  rocking-chair  by 
the  window,  saying, 

"  Lovely  arfternoon,  Mis' Argyle,  ain't  it  ?  Too 
nice  to  stay  indoors.  I  was  a  sayin'  so  to  Geof- 
frey this  noon,  so  thought  I'd  run  in  for  a  little 
while  and  sit  with  you."  She  paused  long  enough 
to  put  down  her  hat  and  take  from  her  pocket 
her  knitting.  As  she  worked  and  rocked,  her 
tongue  ran  on. 

"  Got   lots   of   strawberries  that  want  pickin', 


72  STORM-SWEPT. 


ain't  you  ?  I  see  the  cattle  have  been  in  your 
millet.  Did  the  berryin'  party  leave  the  bars 
down  ?  My  !  it  is  dretfulwarm  !  This  is  about  the 
coolest  place  I  know  of,  and  I  said  so  to  Geoffrey 
this  very  mornin'  that  Mrs.  Argyle'swest  window 
in  the  shade  of  the  cherry-tree  was  about  the 
breeziest  place  in  all  Westbridge.  Are  you  goin' 
to  have  any  cherries  to  pick  on  shares?  for  if  you 
have  I'll  send  little  Geoff  over.  I'm  wantin'  some 
to  do  up." 

Here  she  paused  to  catch  her  breath,  while 
Nellie  looked  daggers  at  her,  wishing  in  her  heart 
that  for  once  in  her  life  Sabra  Denton  would  stay 
at  home  when  she  wasn't.wanted.  She  had  such  a 
faculty  for  dropping  in  when  there  was  the  least 
prospect  of  anything  going  on,  and  somehow  she 
knew  intuitively,  or  otherwise,  the  ins  and  outs 
of  nearly  every  family  in  Westbridge.  One 
could  not  mention  a  person  for  miles  around  but 
that  Sabra,  as  every  one  called  her,  could  give 
some  interesting  information  regarding  them,  and 
thus  it  was  that  though  a  welcome  guest  in  some 
homes,  in  others  she  was  a  terror  to  be  studiously 
let  alone,  and  harbored  as  short  a  time  as  courtesy 
demanded.  She  knew  full  well  that  a  ball  had 
been  set  to  rolling,  and  her  incidental  dropping- 


THE  STRUGGLE  AT  THE  SPRING.  73 


in  was  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  just  how  far  it  had 
gone  in  its  revolutions.  Mrs.  Argyle  had  some 
idea  of  what  Nellie's  feelings  were  at  this  time  so 
she  said,  "  Nellie  dear,  you  may  get  that  roll  I 
spoke  of  out  of  the  left-end  of  the  large  red  chest, 
near  the  top.  Do  not  disturb  the  other  things  if 
you  can  avoid  it." 

With  a  grateful  glance  toward  her  mother,  the 
child  left  the  room. 

"  Bring  it  down  and  let  me  see  it,  if  it's  anything 
pretty,"  remarked  inquisitive  Sabra,  but  Nellie 
was  beyond  hearing  and  it  was  well  she  was,  for 
respect  was  something  Sabra  Denton  never  com- 
manded, either  from  children  or  their  elders  ;  and 
Nellie  would  have,  given  her  an  answer. 

The  newsmonger  of  the  village,  she  had 
brought  herself  into  positions  many  times  that 
would  have  been  humiliating  in  the  extreme  to 
an  ordinary  person.  She,  however,  caring  nothing 
about  any  reflections  upon  herself,  was  well 
pleased  with  the  hubbubs  and  furors  created  by 
her  busy  twaddle.  Although,  ostensibly,  her 
reason  for  dropping  in  had  been  to  enjoy  the 
cool  breeze  at  Primrose  Bank,  the  real  motive 
came  to  light  at  last.  Sabra's  last  remark  had 
met  with  no  response  from  Mrs.  Argyle  ;  and  both 


74  STORM-SWEPT. 


had  knitted  vigorously  for  a  moment  or  two,  when 
the  former  said,  "  They  tell  me,  Mrs.  Argyle, 
that  Nellie  ain't  your  very  own  child." 

"  Indeed  !  " 

"  Well,  Mis'  Pritchard  was  a-tellin'  me " 

"  Nellie  is  our  child,  I  believe,  and  I  sincerely 
wish  Mrs.  Pritchard  would  leave  my  private  af- 
fairs alone."  The  emphasis  on  the  "  my  "  would 
have  silenced  any  one  but  Sabra,  who  con- 
tinued, 

"  Oh.  I  don't  mean  no  harm,  Mis'  Argyle,  but  I 
was  a-sayin'  as  how  little  resemblance  there  was 
between  you  two  and  Nellie,  and  I  was  a-sayin' 
how  toppin'  and  high  strung  she  was,  not  a  bit 
like  you  nor  the  deacon,  and  then  Mis'  Pritchard 
up  and  told  me  all  about  you  adoptin'  her  when 
she  was  a  leetle  mite  of  a  thing,  and  what  a  hard 
time  you've  had  a-bringin'  her  up,  and  what  a 
tantrummy  little  piece  she  is,  and  all  such.  I 
allus  thought  Nellie  was  a  pretty  good  sort  of  a 
Ittle  girl  if  she  was  fiery.  For  my  part,  I  wouldn't 
give  a  snap  for  a  young  'un  that  hadn't  got  any 
spunk." 

"  There  are  a  few  people  this  village  would  be 
better  off  without,  and  Mrs.  Pritchard  is  one  of 
them.  She  has  been  discussing  affairs  about 


THE  STRUGGLE  A  T  THE  SPRING.  75 

which  she  knows  comparatively  nothing,  and  if 
she  isn't  very  careful  her  busy  tongue  will  bring 
her  trouble.  Deacon  Argyle  says  if  she  meddles 
further  with  his  private  affairs  he  will  bring  her 
up  before  the  church." 

"  Laws,  Mis'  Argyle,  you  don't  say.  Now  you 
won't  lisp  a  word  I've  said,  will  you,  for  I  don't 
want  to  get  the  woman  into  no  trouble.  I  was 
down  there  a-spendin'  the  afternoon  with  her, 
and  Florence  was  a-tellin'  how  high-flyin'  Nellie 
was  at  school,  and  how  she  couldn't  get  along 
with  her  peaceably  noways ;  so  that  set  Mis' 
Pritchard  a-talkin'  about  it.  She  said  that  temper 
would  be  the  ruin  of  her  yet,  and  she  felt  so  sorry 
for  you  and  the  deacon  ;  but  laws,  it  hain't  done 
no  harm  yet,  and  I  shan't  ever  speak  of  it  again 
if  it's  offendin'  to  you." 

"  It  has  done  harm  already,  irreparable 
harm.  My  little  Nellie  was  a  contented  happy 
child,  as  much  so  as  if  she  had  been  born  under 
this  roof,  and  had  never  heard  a  word  breathed  but 
that  she  was  our  own  flesh  and  blood  ;  and  but  for 
the  tongues  of  meddling  gossipers  would  know 
nothing  different  now.  For  Florence  Pritchard 
to  take  the  news  to  school  and  taunt  Nellie  with 
it  is  a  scandalous  shame.  It  would  be  well  for 


76  S  TORM-S  WEPT. 


Mrs.  Pritchard  to  bear  in  mind  the  fact  that  lame 
chickens  come  home  to  roost.  I  don't  wish  you 
to  go  about  the  neighborhood  raking  it  up  and 
making  village  talk  of  it,  for  Nellie  is  almost 
heart-broken  now  over  Florence's  cruel  words. 

"  Well,  I'm  mighty  sorry  I've  got  into  the  mess, 
anyhow,  but,  Mis'  Argyle,  you  can  depend  on  it, 
I  won't  never  mention  it  if  you  feel  so  about  it." 

A  coolness  settled  over  the  conversation  and 
Sabra  soon  rose  to  go,  saying  she  must  run  over 
and  see  Mis  Wooster  a  few  minutes,  for  she 
wanted  to  get  her  receipt  for  canning  strawberries  ; 
adding,  "  I  s'pose  you  ain't  got  any  you  want 
picked  on  shares,  I  wanted  to  get  a  few."  But 
Mrs.  Argyle  did  not  take  the  hint  ;  neither  did  she 
have  any  berries  to  spare.  When  Sabra  had 
taken  her  departure  Mrs.  Argyle  went  up  to  the 
store-room  where  the  old  red  chest  was  kept.  On 
the  floor  sat  Nellie  with  two  or  three  gauzy  little 
garments  in  her  lap.  How  caressingly  she  handled 
the  soft  clothing  she  had  worn  when  a  baby. 
That  she  had  been  somebody's  darling  was  evi- 
dent, for  the  texture  was  of  the  finest,  and  the 
drawn-work  and  hemstitching  done  by  hand : 
while  the  narrow  lace  fulled  into  the  neck  and 
sleeves  was  of  spider-web  fineness.  Mrs.  Argyle 


THE  STRUGGLE  AT  THE  SPRING.  77 

passed  on  to  her  own  room,  thinking  the  child 
would  be  better  left  alone. 

The  afternoon  was  passing  and  tea-time  came. 
Nellie  had  not  put  in  an  appearance,  so  Mrs. 
Argyle  went  in  search  of  her.  There  lay  the  child 
on  the  floor  sound  asleep,  her  hand  resting  on  the 
little  garments  wet  with  her  tears.  Poor  little 
Nellie !  the  awakening  had  come,  and  she  knew 
she  was  an  adopted  child.  As  always  at  some 
period  in  everyone's  life  the  wheel  of  destiny  be- 
gins to  revolve ;  so  that  time  had  come  in  the 
heretofore  placid  experience  of  Nellie  Argyle. 
To  some  it  seems  as  if  the  world  moved  on  year  in 
and  year  out  and  brought  no  changes.  Hum- 
drum everyday  life  is  the  same  to-day  as  yesterday  ; 
but  suddenly,  with  no  warning,  there  comes  an 
instant  when  on  some  little  pivot  the  great  machin- 
ery of  important  events  begins  to  turn ;  and, 
before  one  realizes  the  fact,  wheels  are  revolving, 
belts  are  running,  and  the  steady  rumble  of  the 
machinery  of  the  universe  tells  of  the  speedy 
approach  of  change. 


78  STORM-SWEPT. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A    FATEFUL   STORM. 

"  Little — little  do  we  know 
What  the  future  hath  in  store, 
What  there  is  that  lieth  before 
Any  one  of  us.!' 

HE  long  summer  days  were  over;  the 
katydids  had  ceased  their  rasping  call, 
fields  lay  bare  and  brown,  waiting  for 
the  softly  falling  snows.  Had  you 
dropped  into  the  grocery-store  down  in  the 
village,  you  would  have  found  several  farmers 
gathered  about  the  air-tight  stove,  and  as  the 
hickory -knots  blazed  and  crackled,  the  men,  seated 
around  on  sugar  and  flour  barrels,  or  soap  or  cracker 
boxes,  would  have  told  you  of  the  wonderful  har- 
vest they  had  reaped.  This  one  had  an  enormous 
crop  of  corn ;  that  one  had  acres  of  first-class 
wheat;  another  was  the  proud  possessor  of  a  crop 
of  potatoes  that  couldn't  be  beaten ;  and  all 
were  correspondingly  jubilant  over  their  good 
fortune. 


A  FATEFUL  STORM. 


79 


Deacon  Argyle  had  run  down  to  the  store  to 
see  if  there  was  any  mail,  it  being  a  regular  country 
store  containing  groceries,  ginghams  and  notions, 
together  with  a  few  hogsheads  of  old  New  Eng- 
land rum  and  hard  cider  ;  while  the  proprietor, 
Jared  Cooper,  gloried  in  the  title  of  postmaster, 
and  delighted  in  passing  over  his  counter  the 
scant  amount  of  mail-matter  which  came  to  the 
two  small  villages  of  Fairbury  and  Westbridge. 

Neither  place,  of  itself,  was  large  enough  to 
demand  a  post-office  ;  but,  after  some  bickering, 
Government  had  named  Fairbury  as  a  village  where 
the  post-office  should  be  located  ;  it  also  to  be 
the  place  for  the  reception  and  delivery  of  West- 
bridge  mail-matter. 

The  deacon  was  dilating  on  his  extraordinary 
millet  crop,  which,  notwithstanding  its  grave  pull- 
back,  had  rallied  and  grown  miraculously. 

"  Here,  deacon,  is  a  letter  from  York,"  said 
Jared,  leaning  over  the  counter  and  looking  in- 
quiringly into  the  deacon's  face.  "  Don't  appear 
to  be  very  heavily  loaded,"  he  added,  as  he  watched 
the  deacon  wonderingly  examine  the  superscrip- 
tion. He  made  no  reply,  but  turned  to  go. 
"  Hold  on  a  minute.  Air  we  agoin'  to  give  the 
parson  a  donation  this  Thanksgiving  ?  " 


8o  STORM-SWKPT. 


"Yes,  yes;"  and  he  turned  back  to  join  the 
crowd  around  the  stove. 

"  Deacon  Argyle,  you  start  the  ball  a-rollin', 
and  we'll  all  give  it  a  push.  What's  your  share  ?  " 
said  Jared,  as  he  familiarly  brought  his  hand  down 
on  the  deacon's  shoulders. 

"  Fifteen  bushel  o'  potatoes,  as  smooth  as  the 
back  o'  your  hand,"  he  replied,  and  then  the 
others  chimed  in ;  they  were  in  the  giving 
mood. 

Barrels  of  apples  and  bushels  of  turnips,  onions, 
corn  and  beans,  sugar-cured  hams,  and  strips  of 
bacon,  all  were  promised  in^quick  succession,  to- 
gether with  several  cords  of  hickory  thrown  in. 
All  agreed  to  go  early  Thanksgiving  morning,  and 
leave  their  donation  at  the  parsonage  door,  and 
then,  with  a  cheery  "  Good-night,"  the  deacon 
turned  his  steps  toward  home.  It  was  after  nine 
o'clock  when  he  arrived  there,  and  Nellie  had 
retired.  Laying  aside  his  overcoat  and  heavy 
boots,  he  seated  himself  beside  the  small  stand 
which  Mrs.  Argyle  had  drawn  up  to  the  open  fire- 
place. He  held  the  letter  in  close  proximity  to 
the  lamp,  at  the  same  time  throwing  back  his  head 
in  order  to  obtain  the  proper  focus,  though  I 
doubt  much  whether  he  realized  why  he  did  so. 


A  FATEFUL  STORM.  81 


He  read  the  letter  over  to  himself,  and  then  aloud 
to  his  wife,  who  sat  opposite,  her  deft  fingers, 
busy  with  needle  and  yarn,  filling  up  openings  in 
the  coarse  blue  homeknit  sock  which  was  stretched 
over  her  hand. 

"  I  can't  make  out  what  it  means,  wife  !  No- 
body's said  anything  about  Parson  Thorpe  goin' 
and  nobody  wants  him  to — not  as  I  know  of.  It 
must  be  some  mistake,  but,"  he  continued,  again 
closely  examining  the  envelope,  "  it's  Deacon  E. 
Argyle,  Westbridge,  so  it's  to  me,  of  course." 

"  Look  over  the  Year  Book  and  see  if  the  man's 
name  is  among  the  preachers  without  charge," 
suggested  Mrs.  Argyle.  So  the  deacon  searched 
the  Year  Book  for  the  name  signed  at  the  foot  of 
the  letter. 

"  Ah,  here  it  is,"  and,  with  his  fingers  resting  on 
the  page  the  deacon  read,  Robert  A.  Mitchell, 
D.D.,  New  York  City.  That  was  all,  and  that 
was  the  name  signed  to  the  letter. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  folding  up  the  letter  and  slid- 
ing it  back  into  the  envelope,  "  I'll  just  drop  him 
a  line  to  say  there  ain't  any  vacancy  here,  for 
we're  all  well  satisfied  with  Parson  Thorpe." 
So  the  letter  was  written  and  mailed  next  day. 
Mrs.  Argyle  sat  watching  her  husband,  his  stiff 


82  STORM-SWEPT. 

fingers  guiding  the  pen,  as  he  scratched  off  a  few 
lines. 

"  It  'ud  be  a  mighty  good  chance  for  some 
country  church  to  get  a  D.D.  for  a  minister,  and 
all  just  because  he  wanted  just  a  few  years  of  rest 
and  quiet  after  the  strain  of  his  heavy  labor," 
she  ventured  to  remark. 

But  the  letter  went,  and  the  days  sped  by,  and 
Thanksgiving  eve  arrived.  At  nightfall  a  blind- 
ing snowstorm  set  in.  Little  drifts  were  already 
piling  up  on  the  window-sills,  and  when  an  outside 
door  was  opened,  a  gust  of  wind  would  send  a 
flurry  of  snowflakes  into  the  room.  On  such  a 
night  one  is  perfectly  content  to  rest  his  feet  on 
the  fender,  and  be  thankful  he  has  a  cheery,  cozy 
home  to  stay  in.  Deacon  Argyle  sat  thus  beside 
the  fireplace  while  his  wife  was  busy  making  final 
preparations  for  the  morrow.  She  was  one  of  the 
few  people  who  invariably  take  time  by  the  fore- 
lock; everything  is  done  decently  and  in  good 
season,  one  piece  of  work  never  crowds  upon 
another ;  but  all  of  the  intricate  duties  of  a  farm 
house  fitting  into  place  as  nicely  as  the  pieces  of 
a  dissected  puzzle.  And  so  it  was  that  the  little 
odds  and  ends  of  work  done  this  evening  would 
make  it  very  easy  for  all  to  attend  service  on  the 


A  FATEFUL  STORM.  83 

morrow,  and  still  have  a  grand  Thanksgiving  din- 
ner, such  as  only  a  New  England  housewife  can 
prepare. 

Nellie  sat  on  a  low  stool  beside  her  father,  her 
chin  resting  in  her  hands,  as  she  gazed  into  the 
roaring  fire,  and  watched  the  sparks  ascending  the 
wide-mouthed  chimney.  Their  quiet  was  suddenly 
disturbed  by  the  sound  of  stamping  feet,  as  some 
one  removed  the  snow  from  his  shoes,  then  there 
came  a  hurried  knock  at  the  door.  Mrs.  Argyle 
was  there  as  soon  as  the  hand  touched  the 
knocker,  and  she  swung  the  door  wide  open, 
while  a  young  man,  whose  broad  shoulders  were 
laden  with  snow,  entered  the  room,  and  with  him 
a  cutting  blast  of  frosty,  snow-freighted  air.  He 
spoke  hurriedly  : 

"  Deacon  Argyle,  father  is  very  sick  ;  we  fear  he 
has  had  a  shock  ;  will  you  come  over  at  once  ? 
Mother  is  alone  with  him,  and  I  must  hurry  back." 

Struck  almost  dumb  with  amazement,  the 
deacon  and  his  wife  in  unison  gasped,  "  Parson 
Thorpe  had  a  shock !  " 

It  took  Mrs.  Argyle  but  an  instant  to  compre- 
hend ;  then,  hastily  gathering  together  the 
deacon's  storm-garments,  she  assisted  him  in  well 
muffling  himself. 


84  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  Be  careful  of  your  footing,  father  ;  I  see  the 
snow  is  making  fast."  Then  to  the  young  man> 
"  Tell  your  mother  she  has  my  sympathy  and 
prayers.  I  would  go  myself,  but  dare  notventure 
out  in  such  a  storm,  neither  would  it  be  right  to 
leave  Nellie  alone.  Father,  you  had  better  stop 
for  Mrs.  Sackett  on  the  way.  She  lives  quite 
near,  and  may  be  of  assistance.  Here  is  your 
lantern  and  some  matches ;  you  will  have  need  of 
both,  I  think,  for  the  snow  is  blinding,  and  the 
wind  is  strong." 

Nellie  stood  by  the  door  with  her  mother,  peer- 
ing out  through  the  crack  into  the  darkness, 
which  was  made  even  more  plainly  visible  in  one 
little  place  by  the  flickering  light  from  the  lan- 
tern. As  they  closed  the  door  on  the  retreating 
forms  which  bent  before  the  biting  blast,  both 
instinctively  walked  to  the  fireplace  and  with 
arms  about  each  other  stood  looking  into  the 
cheerful  blaze.  Nellie  broke  the  silence  by 
asking,  "  Do  you  suppose  this  is  a  blizzard, 
mother  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  child,  I  never  experienced  one  ; 
but  this  is  a  fearful  storm ;  I  think  I  never  saw 
one  worse.  It  can't  possibly  last  like  this  a  great 
while  ;  I  am  anxious  about  your  father ;  I  do  hope 


A  FA  TEFUL  STORM.  85 

he  wont  try  to  come  back  alone  to-night  if  it  con- 
tinues in  this  way." 

After  sitting  for  a  little  while,  Nellie  went  to 
her  room  over  the  kitchen,  leaving  Mrs.  Argyle 
by  the  fireplace,  busy  with  her  never-failing  piece 
of  knitting.  This  time  it  was  a  scarlet  mitten, 
one  of  a  pair  which  mother  wanted  to  place  in 
Nellie's  Christmas  stocking.  The  click  of  the 
knitting-needles  beat  swifter  time  than  the  tall  old 
clock  whrch  stood  at  the  end  of  the  room,  its  heavy 
iron  weights  moving  almost  imperceptibly  as  the 
hours  sped  by.  A  whirring  sound,  and  the  solemn 
tones,  which  had  measured  over  a  century  of 
time,  rang  out  the  hour  of  eleven.  The  storm  still 
raged  ;  the  wind  howled  and  swept  around  the 
house,  piling  the  snow  up  to  the  window-sills;  in 
some  places  the  drifts  reaching  far  up  on  to  the 
panes.  Wide-spreading  branches  of  the  great 
maples  bent  and  creaked  as  the  gale  swept  over 
them. 

Mrs.  Argyle  stepped  to  the  door  to  look  out, 
but  the  snow  almost  blinded  her,  and  the  wind 
fairly  took  away  her  breath.  She  then  went  to 
the  window  determined  so  see  what  there  was  to 
be  seen.  With  a  cloth  rung  out  of  hot  water,  she 
melted  the  frost  from  the  pane  and  gazed  out  in- 


86  STORM-SWEPT. 


to  the  Stygian  darkness.  Now  and  then  in  the 
distance  she  caught  a  glimmer  of  light  ;  it  was 
surely  a  miracle  if  any  one  could  manage  to  keep 
a  lantern  burning  in  such  a  gale.  Hoping  it  was 
the  deacon  so  nearly  home,  she  placed  a  light 
before  the  window  and  set  herself  about  the  task 
of  keeping  the  frost  from  the  panes.  Soon,  think- 
ing she  heard  his  voice,  she  opened  the  door  and 
beheld  him  floundering  in  the  snow  which  had 
piled  high  up  against  the  rear  of  the  house. 
Almost  exhausted  he  sank  into  the  chair  she  had 
placed  for  him.  As  soon  as  he  could  find  voice 
to  speak  he  said., 

"  Parson  Thorpe  has  preached  his  last  sermon, 
wife. " 

"  Then  he  is  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,  as  good  as  gone  when  I  got  there.  I've 
left  Mrs.  Sackett  with  'em  ;  but  what  on  earth 
we're  to  do  to-morrow  I  don't  know.  It's  a  union 
meetin',  you  remember,  and  there'll  be  no  preacher 
there." 

"  Well,  well,  don't  worry  about  it,  there'll  be 
no  need  of  one  to-morrow,  if  this  storm  keeps  up." 

"  That's  true.  I  had  hard  work  to  get  home. 
Leon  came  as  far  as  the  turnpike ;  he  would  see 
me  within  sight  of  home  anyhow." 


A  FATEFUL  STORM.  87 


"  I  was  worried  about  you,  the  wind  is  so  high, 
and  the  snow  so  blinding.  I'm  afraid  it  will  be 
the  worse  for  a  good  many  who  are  out  this 
night.  It  acts  to  me  like  one  of  those  Dakota 
blizzards  we  frequently  read  about ;  I  do  hope  it 
isn't.  Hark !  Did  you  hear  that  crash  ?  It 
seemed  to  shake  the  house." 

"  Some  tree  gone  down,  likely,"  the  deacon 
replied  ;  "  perhaps  the  old  chestnut  down  by  the 
brook,  or  the  black-mulberry  back  of  the  store- 
house ;  for  some  time  I've  noticed  that  was 
a-splittin.'  " 

"  Listen !  didn't  that  sound  like  a  human 
voice?"  Mrs.  Argylc  almost  whispered. 

"  Some ;  guess  it  was  the  train  whistle  over  to 
the  junction.  It'll  get  stalled  I  reckon  pretty 
soon  if  'tain't  already.  Them  car  screeches  do 
sound  like  human  voices  sometimes.  I  declare 
for't,  if  the  snow  ain't  up  to  the  window-sill 
already.  Why,  it  don't  seem  as  if  it  could  keep 
on  at  this  rate  very  much  longer.  I  feel  dreadful 
sorry  for  poor  Mrs.  Thorpe,  she's  so  patient  and 
quiet,  poor  soul,  but  I'm  mighty  glad  I  left  Mis, 
Sackett  there.  With  Leon  and  her,  they'll  get 
along  comfortably.  It  makes  it  bad  this  snow 
does.  We'll  have  ter  have  a  preacher  from  some- 


88  STORM-SWEPT. 


where,  or  else  hold  a  union  prayer-meetin'.  I 
wonder  if  that  Doctor  Mitchell  I  got  that 
letter  from — perhaps  he'd  like  to  take  the  pul- 
pit now,  but  to-morrow  is  what  I'm  worried 
about." 

"  Well,  father,"  said  Mrs.  Argyle,  "  I  wouldn't 
worry,  let  the  morrow  take  thought  for  the  things 
of  itself.  The  Lord  knows  we're  in  want  of  a 
preacher,  and  if  it's  best  for  us  to  have  one  to- 
morrow, he'll  send  one  along." 

"  Well,  we'll  have  to  wait  and  see  what  to- 
morrow brings." 

How  often  those  words  are  spoken,  and  how 
often  the  morrow  holds  in  store  much  that  shall 
influence  our  whole  future. 

Bright  and  clear  Thanksgiving  morning  dawned, 
and  Deacon  Argyle  awoke  with  a  sense  of  the 
great  responsibility  resting  upon  him.  Being 
first  deacon  in  the  church,  the  brunt  of  the  plan- 
ning and  work  devolved  upon  him,  and  all  relied 
on  his  sound  judgment  and  excellent  manage- 
ment to  keep  the  machinery  of  the  church  in 
good  running  order.  The  snow  was  about  four 
feet  deep  on  a  level  this  memorable  morning,  and 
a  path  was  the  first  thing  to  be  attended  to.  The 
cattle  and  fowls  would  have  to  be  reached  and  fed  ; 


A  FA  TEFUL  STORM.  89 

so  the  Deacon  fell  to  work  with  a  will  and  made  a 
way  to  the  barn  and  chicken-coop. 

After  breakfast  he  would  go  to  the  parsonage, 
then  the  thought  came  that  this  was  the  morning 
for  donation.  Would  the  men  pluck  up  ambition 
enough  to  attempt  travel  over  the  roads  in  their 
present  condition  ?  In  all  probability  they  would^ 
for  as  yet  none  knew  of  the  calamity  which  had 
befallen  them.  However,  the  deacon  started  out 
with  his  snow-plough,  and  having  reached  the  post, 
office  told  Jared  Cooper  of  the  pastor's  death. 

"  No,  you  don't  say  so !  I'm  powerful  sorry, 
and  to-day  to  be  a  union  meetin',  too.  Folks'll 
have  to  be  on  the  road  pretty  soon,  I  reckon,  to 
get  there  in  time  for  service,  but  who  will  you  get 
to  take  charge  ?  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  storm, 
deacon  ?  Beats  all  my  recollections. 

"  By  the  way,  the  telegraph  wire  is  broke  down, 
but  the  last  dispatch  as  came  over  it  was  from  the 
midnight  express.  She's  stalled  over  in  the 
Carmel  Cut,  and  there's  several  passengers  aboard. 
Do  you  suppose  it'll  be  possible  ter  reach  'em  ? 
The  drifts  are  something  terrible  I  should  judge 
by  looking  round  ;  but  git  several  together,  and 
you  might  git  'em  to  a  little  pleasanter  quarters. 
It'll  be  a  mighty  glum  Thanksgivin'  there,  I 


90  STORM-SWEPT. 


reckon,  if  some  one  don't  do  somethin'.  There 
ain't  much  to  eat  aboard,  and  I  guess  we'll  all  have 
to  share  our  turkeys  with  strangers." 

To  this  Deacon  Argyle  made  answer,  "  They'll 
be  thrice  welcome,  if  we  can  only  get  at  'em  ;  but 
the  Cut's  a  mean  place  for  a  train  ter  get  stalled 
in,  unless  it's  lucky  enough  to  be  at  one  end  or 
the  other."  His  mind  now  engrossed  with 
thoughts  of  the  imprisoned  travellers,  the  deacon 
made  his  way  toward  the  parsonage,  thinking 
perhaps  he  should  fall  in  with  some  of  the  men 
who  were  bringing  donations,  nor  was  he  wrong  in 
his  surmise.  Meeting  several  who,  like  himself, 
had  taken  recourse  to  their  snow-ploughs,  he  told 
each  one  of  the  pastor's  sudden  death,  and  of  the 
stalled. train  with  its  suffering  passengers;  and, 
accordingly, one  and  all,  after  leaving  their  burdens 
at  the  parsonage  door,  turned  their  horses'  heads 
in  the  direction  of  the  Cut. 

The  farmers  did  not  find  it  necessary  to  keep  to 
the  roads,  for  the  unbroken  expanse  of  snow  lay 
over  the  tops  of  the  fences,  thus  making  it  feasible 
to  take  a  bee-line  for  the  ridge  of  hills  which  lay 
along  to  the  southeast.  Indeed,  it  was  a  pictu- 
resque sight,  that  long  ridge  of  rocks,  its  fissures 
and  gullies  filled  up  with  snow,  and  the  spruce 


A  FATEFUL  STORM. 


and  fir  trees  heavily  laden.  Driving  around  to 
the  western  end  of  the  Cut,  they  discovered  the 
object  of  their  search.  To  all  appearances,  the 
engine  had  run  into  an  enormous  drift  which 
almost  entirely  filled  up  the  entrance  to  the  Cut, 
and  there  was  the  train  half  buried  in  snow.  A 
few  men  out  reconnoitring,  gladly  hailed  the 
half-dozen  farmers,  who,  with  their  ploughs,  drove 
as  near  to  the  train  as  possible,  then  with  a  word 
to  their  steady  old  farm-horses  left  them  to  stand 
while  it  was  ascertained  what  could  be  done  for 
the  relief  of  those  on  board. 

"  We're  most  in  need  of  some  breakfast,"  said 
the  conductor,  "  and  we  have  no  facilities  for  pre- 
paring any,  nor  much  to  prepare,  for  that  matter. 
Does  your  town  boast  a  hotel,  or  what  can  we  do  ?  " 

As  usual,  Deacon  Argyle  was  spokesman.  "No, 
sir,  we  don't  own  no  hotel,  but  there's  plenty  of 
farmers  around  who'll  be  only  too  glad  to  share 
with  their  brethren  in  distress.  We'll  go  inside 
and  see  what  we  can  do.  How  many  passengers 
are  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  more'n  a  dozen  besides  the  train 
hands." 

"  Then  we  can  dispose  of  them  without  any 
difficulty,"  replied  the  deacon. 


92  STORM-SWEPT. 

They  boarded  the  train,  and  were  soon  in  conver- 
sation with  the  passengers.  One  tall,  command- 
ing-looking gentleman  laid  his  hand  on  Deacon 
Argyle's  shoulder  and  said,  "  Sir,  I  shall  be  under 
lasting  obligation  to  you  if  you  will  find  comfort- 
able quarters  for  my  wife  and  daughter  here." 
Taking  a  card  from  his  pocket  a'nd  handing  it  to 
the  deacon,  he  added,  "  Mrs.  Mitchell  is  already 
suffering  from  a  severe  headache,  and  her  nerves 
are  very  much  unstrung." 

"  Glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Doctor ; 
Providence  has  surely  sent  you  along.  I  judge 
from  this  card  that  you  are  the  identical  man  who 
wrote  me  a  letter  a  short  time  ago." 

''  Indeed  !  Have  I,  then,  the  pleasure  of  ad- 
dressing Deacon  Elijah  Argyle  ?  " 

"  That's  my  name,  Doctor  Mitchell,  and  I 
reckon  you're  a  godsend.  Things  have  changed 
mightily  in  the  last  few  hours,  but  wife  said  it  'ud 
come  out  all  right.  Our  pastor  died  last  night  ; 
had  an  apopletic  stroke." 

Dr.  Mitchell  expressed  his  regrets. 

"  We  are  to  have  a  union  meetin'  to-day,  and, 
with  no  pastor  and  no  way  of  letting  the  people 
know,  I'm  all  in  a  quandary.  I  was  thinkin'  of 
you  this  mornin',  and  wonderin'  if,  perhaps,  you 


A  FATEFUL  STORM. 


93 


wouldn't  like  ter  come  now  and  be  our  regular 
pastor.  They  generally  leave  such  things  pretty 
much  to  me,  and  I  reckon  I  speak  the  mind  of  all 
when  I  say  I'd  like  to  have  you  think  about  it. 
At  any  rate,  perhaps  you  could  help  us  out  this 
mornin' — but  sho  !  it's  no  time  for  me  to  be  dis- 
cussin'  this  while  the  ladies  are  not  made  comfort- 
able. See  here,  doctor,  I've  only  my  plough  here  ; 
but  if  you'll  wait  half  or  three-quarters  of  an  hour, 
I'll  go  home  and  come  back  with  my  sleigh,  and 
you  and  your  wife  and  daughter  can  come  to  my 
house  and  welcome,  and  stay  as  long  as  you 
like." 

"  It  wants  twenty  minutes  of  nine,"  said  Dr. 
Mitchell  ;  "  and  if  I  am  to  assist  with  this  morn- 
ing's service  the  sooner  I  get  to  your  house  the 
better.  Then  we  have  several  shawls  and  rugs 
with  us,  and  it  seems  to  me  as  though,  with  them, 
Mrs.  Mitchell  and  Olga  could  be  made  quite  com- 
fortable on  that  snow-plough.  My  wife  needs  rest 
and  quiet  at  once,  for  ever  since  last  night  when 
the  engineer  blew  that  fearful  shrieking  whistle 
she  has  been  entirely  unnerved." 

"Just  as  you  say,  Doctor,  just  as  you  say;  of 
course,  it's  a  rough-looking  affair  but  it  runs 
smoothly." 


94  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  Never  mind  the  looks  as  long  as  she  gets  out 
of  this  hubbub." 

In  a  few  moments  Deacon  Argyle,  with  Dr. 
Mitchell  and  family,  were  fleeting  over  the  mead- 
ows and  fences  toward  Primrose  Bank.  Soon  the 
long  steep  hill  was  in  view  and  the  tall  church- 
spire  ;  then  they  crossed  the  bridge  over  the  ice- 
bound river  and  passed  on  through  the  village  up 
the  broad  avenue,  which  in  summer  was  shaded 
most  delightfully  by  stately  maples,  their  bare 
branches  being  now  weighted  down  with  snow. 
Acre  after  acre  of  white  stretched  away  in  every 
direction  ;  the  houses  lay  half-buried  in  the  drifts  ; 
while  here  and  there  was  occasionally  to  be  seen 
a  man  tunnelling  his  way  through  a  huge  snow- 
bank. Not  a  fence  nor  a  shrub  was  discernible. 
Dr.  Mitchell  thought  it  would  be  a  very  slim  con- 
gregation that  would  be  able  to  meet  any  preacher 
at  the  church  they  had  just  passed.  Impulsive 
little  Nell  stood  with  her  face  against  the  pane 
looking  down  the  road. 

"  Mother,"  she  called,  "  here  comes  father 
with  the  plough  full  of  people.  Who  can  they 
be?" 

Mrs.  Argyle  and  Nellie  were  at  the  door  as  the 
Deacon  drove  up.  What  a  different  Thanksgiv- 


A  FATEFUL  STORM. 


95 


ing  than  had  been  anticipated,  all  were  to  have! 
Breakfast  having  been  served,  and  Mrs.  Mitchell 
made  comfortable,  the  doctor  seated  himself  by 
the  open  grate  in  the  wide,  low-ceiled  sitting- 
room,  rubbing  his  hands  and  now  and  then  turn- 
ing the  palms  toward  the  genial  blaze.  Deacon 
Argyle  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  high  mantel 
as  he  thoughtfully  watched  the  doctor,  evidently 
expecting  him  to  say  something.  The  doctor 
spoke,  "  Well,  Deacon  Argyle,  of  course  I  am 
not  prepared  to  occupy  any  pulpit ;  but,  under 
the  circumstances,  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  aid 
you  ;  and  in  regard  to  the  other  matter,  I  am  as 
yet  free  to  accept  a  charge  wherever  I  may  be 
called.  I  had  not  again  written  to  the  gentleman 
whose  letter  was  sent  you  by  mistake.  I  had 
been  informed  there  was  a  vacant  pulpit  at  West- 
ridge." 

"  Westridge  ?  Why,  this  is  Westbridge  ! — 
that's  where  the  mistake  must  lie,"  said  Deacon 
Argyle,  and  stepping  to  the  secretary  he  took  out 
the  letter.  "  Ah,  yes,  it  is  Westridge.  Singular, 
isn't  it,  that  I  have  a  namesake.  I  never  knew 
Elijah  Argyles  were  so  common  before." 

It  seemed  that  Providence  meant  to  send  Dr. 
Mitchell  to  Westbridge  after  all ;  and  in  a  short 


96  STORM-SWEPT. 


time,  under  such  inauspicious  circumstances  he 
preached  his  trial  sermon.  While  sitting  in  his 
pew  a  thought  dawned  upon  the  deacon's  mind, 
and  as  it  grew  and  developed,  he  felt  that  in  truth 
God  had  a  wise  purpose  in  view  when  he  allowed 
so  unusual  a  train  of  circumstances.  Ah,  well !  a 
fine  discourse  was  delivered,  notwithstanding  the 
doctor's  excuses,  and  in  the  fair-sized  congrega- 
tion every  head  was  kept  turning  as  people  looked 
one  at  another,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  When  have 
we  before  heard  such  a  sermon ! "  At  Deacon 
Argyle's,  a  genuine  New  England  Thanksgiving- 
day  was  passing.  Without,  all  was  spotlessly 
white,  overhead  a  variable  sky  giving  promise  of 
more  snow.  Within  was  a  mammoth  gobbler, 
attended  by  all  his  satellites,  in  the  shape  of 
vegetables,  pumpkin  pies,  Indian  puddings,  and 
other  delectables  which  combine  to  make  up  a 
real  Thanksgiving  dinner.  Twilight  had  deep- 
ened, and  the  cheerful  light  from  the  fire  in  the 
old-fashioned  chimney-place  threw  flickering 
shadows  dancing  into  the  far  corners  of  the  long 
kitchen  ;  and  here  where  the  blaze  was  brightest, 
and  the  most  homelike  air  reigned,  all  were 
gathered  as  night  dropped  her  dusky  curtain  over 
the  snowclad  earth. 


A  FATEFUL  STORM. 


97 


"  It  makes  me  think  of  old  times  when  I  was  a 
boy  at  home,"  said  Dr.  Mitchell.  "  Many  times 
have  I  sat  at  the  twilight  hour  and  watched  the 
fantastic  shadows  thrown  by  the  blazing  logs  of 
the  fire;  I,  meanwhile,  building  castles  in  the  air 
till,  in  imagination,  the  wealth  of  the  Caesars  lay 
at  my  feet,  and  every  rock  in  the  field  seemed  to 
have  proven  an  open  sesame."  And  thus  with 
reminiscences  and  anecdotes,  was  the  evening 
pleasantly  passed. 

The  morrow  came,  and  with  it  knowledge  that 
throughout  New  England  travel  was  pretty  much 
at  a  standstill.  Miles  of  railroad  tracks  were 
covered  with  snow,  in  some  places  the  drifts 
reaching  to  the  telegraph  wires.  It  would  be 
days  at  least  before  trains  would  be  running. 
Dr.  Mitchell  and  family  would  remain  over  Sun- 
day anyway;  and  then,  too,  there  was  Parson 
Thorpe's  funeral  to  be  attended.  The  Sabbath 
dawned,  and  it  was  necessary  to  dispose  of  the 
dead  preacher's  body.  No  hearse  nor  carriage 
could  be  procured,  as  was  customary,  from  the 
neighboring  city.  No  horses  could  draw  the  load 
to  the  cemetery  on  the  hill,  so  what  was  to  be 
done  but  the  best  that  could  be  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. The  body  decently  prepared  for 


98  STORM-SWEPT. 

burial,  and  in  its  coffin,  was  placed  in  a  large 
farm-wagon  and  that  drawn  by  some  fifty  men 
across  the  lots  and  up  the  hill  to  the  vault  in  the 
cemetery,  and  there  deposited  to  await  the  melt- 
ing of  the  snow. 

A  meeting  of  the  deacons  was  held,  a  call  was 
extended  to  Dr.  Mitchell,  and  by  him  accepted. 
Then  came  the  question,  "  What  can  be  done  for 
Mrs.  Thorpe?"  For  thirty  years  her  husband 
had  faithfully  ministered  to  them  ;  but  a  small 
country  church  seldom  pays  a  salary  that  admits 
of  much  being  laid  by  for  a  rainy  day ;  conse- 
quently Mrs.  Thorpe  and  her  son  Leon  had  very 
little  to  fall  back  upon.  True,  Leon  was  a  young 
man,  but  he  was  preparing  for  college ;  and  Mrs. 
Thorpe  would  listen  to  no  plan  that  should  take 
him  out  of  school. 

"  Can  she  sew  ?  "  said  Dr.  Mitchell  to  the  deacon. 

"  My  wife  says  she  can't  be  beat.  There  ain't 
a  woman  in  Westbridge,  nor  Fairbury  neither, 
that  can  hold  a  candle  to  her  sewin',"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Then,  I  am  confident  my  wife  can  procure  for 
her  any  amount  of  fine  sewing  if  Mrs.  Thorpe 
so  desires." 

"  Well,  it  does  beat  all,"  said  the  deacon,  "  and 


A  FATEFUL  STORM. 


there's  Captain  Alden's  old  house,  the  prettiest 
little  cottage  ever  was,  and  empty  too  ;  and  she 
can  have  it  for  a  song,"  so  Mrs.  Thorpe  was  con- 
sulted and  arrangements  completed,  and  Christ- 
mas time  found  Leon  Thorpe  and  his  mother 
occupants  of  the  pleasant  Alden  cottage,  while 
Dr.  Mitchel  and  family  were  ensconced  in  the 
cosy  little  brown  parsonage. 


STORM-SWEPT. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  ACCIDENT  ON  THE  POND. 

And  though  his  plans  he  never  showeth  thee, 
It  is  His  wisdom  that  it  should  be  so." 


T  was  nearing  sundown  on  a  cold  March 
day.  Near  the  horizon  dark  clouds 
swiftly  sailed  over  a  pale  yellow  sky,  and 
the  dull  gray  atmosphere  that  prevailed 
seemed  to  fill  one  with  gloomy  forebodings.  It 
was,  however,  no  time  to  indulge  in  such  feel- 
ings, for  on  the  morrow  Commencment  exercises 
were  to  be  held  at  Lakeside  Academy,  and 
the  professor,  together  with  several  pupils  who 
were  to  take  prominent  parts,  had  remained 
after  school-hours  for  a  final  rehearsal.  The 
last  to  pass  out  of  the  building  were  Professor 
Northrop  and  Leon  Thorpe,  the  former  speaking 
encouraging  words  to  the  latter  as  he  bade  him 
good-evening.  In  their  recitations  a  good-natured 
rivalry  had  existed  between  Leon  and  the  village 
doctor's  son,  Ralph,  but  the  former  had  won  the 


THE  ACCIDENT  ON  THE  POND.  ioi 

honorable  rank  of  valedictorian,  and  when  such 
announcement  was  made,  first  after  the  professor 
to  come  forward  with  hearty  congratulations  was 
Ralph  Strong. 

"  Well,  old  boy,  I'm  glad  you've  got  it,  for 
you've  won  it  fair  and  square.  We'll  try  a  race 
again  some  day  when  we  get  fairly  settled  under 
the  elms  at  old  Yale  ;  "  and  so  the  honors  were 
gracefully  conceded  to  Leon,  who  had  earned  and 
well  deserved  them.  The  boys  were  fast  friends, 
and,  as  intimated  by  Ralph's  remark,  intended 
entering  Yale  together;  having  laid  their  plans,  as 
boys  often  will,  that  after  the  four  years,  course 
Leon  would  enter  the  law  school,  while  Ralph 
would  follow  in  his  father's  footsteps  and  study 
medicine.  After  leaving  the  professor,  Leon  was 
making  his  way  toward  home  when  he  heard  foot- 
steps hurriedly  approaching.  In  a  moment  his 
name  was  called,  and  turning  he  beheld  Olga 
Mitchell  running  swiftly  toward  him. 

"  Oh,  Leon,  wait  just  a  minute,  I  can't  run 
another  step ! " 

The  child  approaching — for  child  she  appeared 
to  be,  though  in  reality  nearly  sixteen — looked  as 
though  she  might  have  just  stepped  out  from 
some  picture,  her  cheeks  as  rosy  as  the  March 


102  STORM-SWEPT. 


wind  could  make  them,  laughing  eyes,  and  golden 
brown  curls — in  truth,  it  was  a  sweet  face,  and 
fair  withal  to  look  upon.  So  thought  Leon  Thorpe 
as  he  listened  to  the  half-gasped,  half-whispered 
words,  as  she  tried  to  talk  and  at  the  same  time 
recover  her  breath. 

"  Mother — wants — to  know — if  you — can  bring 
over  the  dresses — early  this  evening,  so  that  we 
can  get  them  in  perfect  readiness  for  to-morrow?  " 

"  With  pleasure,  Olga,  by  seven-thirty  if  pos- 
sible, provided  that  is  not  too  early,  and  might  I 
stay  a  very  little  while  ?  " 

"Certainly  you  may.  Just  think  of  it,  we're 
going  to  the  city  as  soon  as  we  can  get  ready  after 
to-morrow,  for  a  visit  before  father  and  mother 
go  to  Europe,  then  you'll  be  off  for  college  in  the 
fall,  and  I'm  going  to  boarding-school.  Oh,  it'll 
be  ever  and  ever  so  long  before  I  see  you  again. 
Four  years  is  an  awful  long  time." 

"  But,  just  think,  Olga,  the  sooner  I  go  the 
sooner  I  shall  be  back,  and  I've  got  to  make  every 
term  tell,  then  when  I  graduate  from  law-school 
I  shall  look  you  up,  and  all  will  be  as  merry 
as  " — he  whistled  the  rest  while  his  brown  eyes 
twinkled  merrily  and  glanced  slyly  into  the  blue 
ones  beside  him.  The  blue  eyes  drooped  as 


THE  ACCIDENT  ON  THE  POND.  103 

their  owner  fixed  them  upon  the  scarlet  bow 
which  adorned  the  end  of  her  muff.  Her  cheeks 
were  very,  very  rosy  now  and  the  full  lips  trem- 
bled just  a  little  as  she  said,  "  It's  a  long  time — 
four  years, — and  so  much  might  happen." 

"  Yes,  true,  it  might  ;  but  I  shall  be  home  on 
vacations,  and  you  shall  come  to  all  the  Commence- 
ment exercises,  and  the  promenades,  if  you 
like,  he  added  slowly,  his  brow  clouding  at  the 
thought  of  letting  his  little  girl  dance  with  any 
of  the  college  boys.  He  didn't  quite  relish  the 
idea. 

"  No,  come  to  think  of  it,  Olga,  we'll  leave  out 
the  promenades,  if  you  don't  mind  ;  and  would 
you  just  as  soon  promise  me  that  you  won't  dance 
round  dances  with  any  other  fellow  but  me? 
Somehow,  I  can't  bear  to  think  that  you  will." 

Olga  laughed  a  little  rippling  laugh ;  she  was 
vastly  amused  at  the  sedate  manner  of  her  com- 
panion. 

"  Why,  Leon  Thorpe,  you  great  foolish  fellow, 
not  dance  round  dances  with  any  one  but  you 
when  I  don't  know  even  the  first  step  in  danc- 
ing— I  never  danced  in  my  life,"  and  again  she 
laughed  merrily. 

"  Oh,  but  you'll  learn  at  boarding-school — it's 


104  STORM-SWEPT. 


one  of  the  fine  arts,  you  know  ;  and  you'll  have  to 
learn  that  along  with  all  the  other  sense  and  non- 
sense." 

"  And  pray,  what  nonsense  will  they  not  be 
teaching  you  at  college,  at  the  same  time,  Mr. 
Leon  ?  "  she  sarcastically  inquired. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  a  humdrum  bookworm  every 
day  I  am  there,  because,  you  know,  I've  a  great 
deal  to  learn  to  be  a  lawyer." 

"  Just  think  of  it,  Lawyer  Thorpe  !  my,  how 
dignified  it  makes  me  feel  to  have  for  an  escort  a 
judge  in  embryo  !  " 

"  Now,  seriously,  Olga,  will  you  promise?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Prim,  of  course  I'll  promise.  Let 
me  see,  I  promise  not  to  dance  round  dances; 
something  I  don't  know  how  to  do,  and  never 
expect  to  know  how  to  do  ;  with  any  one  except- 
ing you.  Is  that  what  I'm  expected  to  say  ?  " 
He  felt  she  was  laughing  at  him,  but  he  had  her 
promise,  and  he  could  stand  a  good  deal  from 
Olga. 

He  changed  the  subject  very  abruptly.  "  It's 
nearly  five  o'clock,  little  girl,  but  supposing  we 
get  our  skates  and  have  a  little  while  on  the  ice 
before  tea-time  ?  " 

"  That  will  be  just  lovely.     We  can't  stay  long, 


THE  ACCIDENT  ON  THE  POND. 


I05 


so  to  facilitate  matters  I'll  skip  home  after  my 
skates  while  you  go  home  and  get  yours ;  and 
don't  forget  about  the  dresses,"  she  called  back, 
for  she  was  already  several  yards  away. 

"  Be  on  the  pond  promptly  at  five,"  he  replied, 
as  the  flying  figure  disappeared  around  the  next 
corner.  Leon  started  off  on  a  lively  run,  and  in- 
side of  five  minutes  had  hung  his  books  on  a  hook 
in  the  entry  and  was  starting  out  again  when  he 
heard  his  mother's  voice  calling, 

"  Is  that  you,  Leon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"Why  are  you  so  late  ?  " 

"  I  remained  after  school  with  Professor  North- 
rop to  rehearse  my  valedictory.  Rethinks  I  shall 
be  able  to  go  through  with  it  nicely,  J:hen  won't 
you  be  proud  of  your  boy  ?  " 

He  had  bounded  up  the  stairs  three  steps  at  a 
time,  and,  as  he  uttered  the  last  words,  stood  bow- 
ing before  his  mother  in  his  most  profound  sfyle. 

"  I  am  always  proud  of  you,  Leon,"  she  replied, 
while  tears  of  gratification  dimmed  her  eyes;  and 
she  affectionately  kissed  the  happy  glowing  face 
which  bent  toward  hers. 

He  started  to  go  and  she  again  arrested  him 
with  the  question, 


io6  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  Where  to  now  ?      It  is  nearly  five  o'clock." 

"  Oh,  the  ice  on  the  pond  is  fine,  and  Olga  and  I 
are  going  for  a  little  skate  before  tea.  I  think 
there  is  a  storm  brewing  and  I  guess  this  will  be 
about  the  last  of  the  skating.  I'll  be  back  by  tea- 
time." 

"  Very  well,  be  careful ;  you  know  I  am  so 
afraid  of  the  ice." 

"  Good-bye,  little  mother,  never  fear.  By  the 
way,  will  Mrs.  Mitchell's  dresses  be  ready  for  me 
to  take  over  by  half-past  seven  ?  " 

"  Yes,  all  will  be  ready." 

"  Good-bye." 

And  Mrs.  Thorpe  heard  him  bounding  down 
the  steps  while  a  smile  crossed  her  features  as  she 
thought  of  her  handsome,  brown-haired  boy  just 
blossoming  into  manhood,  a  son  of  whom  any 
mother  might  well  be  proud.  Olga  was  on  the 
pond  before  Leon,  and  had  taken  a  turn  about 
with  Ralph  Strong  by  the  time  he  arrived.  Al- 
ready the  ice  was  melting  at  the  edge  of  the  pond, 
making  it  necessary  to  cross  in  a  boat  from  the 
shore  to  the  island  of  ice.  Near  one  end  of  the 
island  a  bonfire  had  been  made  from  a  load  of 
branches  which  the  boys  had  brought,  and  there 
in  the  ruddy  glow  the  young  folks  came  to  warm 


THE  ACCIDENT  ON  THE  POND. 


107 


themselves  ;  then,  when  the  spirit  moved,  were  off 
in  a  trice  to  race,  or  cut  their  names,  or  describe 
circles,  or  to  perform  a  dozen  other  variations  of 
the  delightful  pastime  of  skating.  For  nearly  an 
hour  Olga  and  Leon  enjoyed  themselves,  and  then 
came  .the  thought  that  it  was  nearing  tea-time, 
and  I  assure  you  no  one  knows  better  than  a 
school-boy  when  meal-time  is  approaching. 

Returning  from  a  trip  to  the  further  end  of  the 
pond,  Olga  and  Leon  wheeled  up  to  the  fire  to 
enjoy  the  warmth  while  waiting  for  the  boat  to 
return,  as  a  load  of  boys  had  been  ferried  over  to 
the  shore.  At  the  same  instant  Ralph  Strong 
who  was  standing  with  his  back  toward  them, 
started  away  from  the  bonfire  for  a  last  trip 
around  the  pond.  The  boys'  skates  locked — there 
was  a  dull  thud — and  Leon  lay  on  the  ice  still  and 
pale  as  death.  In  an  instant  every  skater  had 
rushed  to  the  side  of  the  senseless  form. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  boys,  disperse,  the  ice  is 
bending." 

It  was  the  stern  voice  of  Doctor  Strong  shout- 
ing to  them  from  the  shore.  They  started  back 
in  alarm,  and  only  a  few  were  left  about  the  in- 
animate form  which  gentle  hands  lifted  into  the 
boat  and  carried  ashore.  Under  the  Doctor's 


Io8  STORM  SWEPT. 


directions  a  stretcher  was  improvised,  and  on  it 
Leon  was  carried  to  the  doctor's  office.  By  the 
use  of  restoratives  he  was  brought  to  a  state  of 
semi-consciousness,  and  then  they  tenderly  bore 
him  to  his  home.  Olga  needed  caring  for,  too, 
poor  child  !  She  was  in  a  nervous  chill,  and  Doctor 
Strong  sent  Ralph  home  with  her  in  his  carriage. 
As  he  lifted  her  out  at  the  parsonage  door,  he  said, 

"  Olga,  you  don't  think  I  did  it  on  purpose  ?  " 

"  No,  Ralph,  you  couldn't,  I  know."  "  Thank 
you.  I  shan't  care  now  what  any  one  says.  It  was 
purely  an  accident  which  I  regret  most  sincerely." 

With  a  few  words  of  explanation  to  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Mitchell,  he  left  her  in  their  charge  and 
returned  to  his  father's  office.  Doctor  Strong  had 
gone  home  with  Leon,  and  on  his  return  found 
Ralph  in  waiting.  A  more  sorrowful,  dejected 
countenance  it  would  be  difficult  to  imagine, 

"  Come,  my  boy,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and  tell 
me  how  it  happened  ;  "  and  sitting  there  with  his 
father  beside  the  open  fireplace,  in  a  straight- 
forward manner  Ralph  related  to  him  the  par- 
ticulars of  the  accident ;  and  then,  with  his  head 
bent  in  his  hands,  he  wept  tears  of  genuine  grief. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Ralph.  It  will  be  almost  a 
miracle  if  he  recovers.  The  skull  is  fractured  and 


THE  ACCIDENT  ON  THE  POND.  109 


I  fear  a  serious  case  of  concussion  of  the  brain. 
There  is  one  chance  in  a  thousand  that  he  will 
weather  it  through.  If  he  does  he  will  have  to 
wear  a  silver  plate  under  his  scalp.  Poor  boy, 
how  his  mother  will  grieve  !  She  bore  the  news 
very  calmly,  though  ;  for  she  seemed  to  realize 
there  was  something  to  be  done,  and  no  time  to 
be  wasted  in  lamentations.  I  tell  you,  boy,  that 
woman  is  a  tower  of  strength.  She  certainly  is  a 
wonderful  woman." 

Ralph's  tears  had  subsided,  and  after  some 
moments  of  silence  he  said,  "  Father,  I  can't  go 
to  college  till  I  know  Leon  is  out  of  danger.  His 
face  would  haunt  me  day  and  night." 

"  We  will  see,  we  will  see ;  though  I  hope  for 
the  best." 

The  morrow  dawned  in  due  course,  and  the 
class  graduation  exercises,  were  held,  but  there 
seemed  to  be  a  pall  hanging  over  the  whole 
school.  He  who  was  to  have  carried  off  the 
honors  lay  on  his  couch  in  a  stupor  with  the 
death-angel  hovering  very  near  to  him,  while  in 
and  out  and  about  the  house  mechanically  moved 
a  little  woman  whose  peaceful  face  showed  that 
her  trust  lay  in  the  Omnipotent  and  whose  faith 
was  exceeding  strong. 


STORM-SWEPT. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SHIPWRECKED. 

:  And  the  sea  is  wide,  and  the  pitiless  tide 
Bears  on  its  bosom  away,  away, 
Beauty  and  youth  in  relentless  ruth 
To  its  dark  abyss  for  aye,  for  aye." 

HE  spring  days  began  to  lengthen,  cow- 
slips started  up  in  the  brook,  and 
trillium  nodded  its  crimson  blossoms 
in  the  shadow  of  the  forest  trees. 
Houstonias  whitened  the  hillsides,  and  violets 
lent  their  fragrance  to  the  balmy  May  air.  It 
did  not  seem  at  all  as  if  the  previous  month  had 
been  one  of  showers,  for  but  few  had  fallen,  and 
those  had  been  very  warm  and  mild.  The  patient 
at  the  Alden  Cottage  was  slowly  improving, 
thanks  to  Doctor  Strong's  unceasing  attention, 
and  the  untiring  watchfulness  of  Mrs.  Thorpe. 
The  doctor  drove  daily  to  the  cottage,  and 
occasionally  Ralph  or  Olga  were  allowed  to  see 
Leon  for  a  very  few  moments  at  a  time,  but  nei- 
ther visiting  nor  much  conversation  was  allowed, 


SHIPWRECKED. 


for  rest  and  quiet  were  now  putting  in  their  work, 
and  were  doing  more  for  the  patient  than  med- 
icine. 

Leon  was  now  able  to  sit  in  a  reclining  chair, 
and  often  Ralph  would  wheel  him  out  on  the  wide 
veranda  which  extended  around  three  sides  of 
the  house.  Frequently  when  Olga  brought  work 
for  Mrs.  Thorpe,  she  would  also  bring  for  Leon  a 
choice  bouquet,  just  stopping  long  enough  to  give 
a  few  pleasant  words  of  greeting  and  encourage- 
ment to  the  pale-faced  young  man  whom  it  seemed 
must  now  indeed  give  up  all  hope  of  ever  under- 
taking a  college  course.  The  bright  spring  days 
sped  on,  and  still  Leon's  condition  remained  about 
the  same.  He  lacked  vitality,  so  Dr.  Strong  said  ; 
and  the  well-practiced  physician  racked  his  brain 
to  discover  some  idea,  which  could  be  made  of 
benefit  to  him.  One  early  May  evening  Ralph 
sat  in  his  father's  office  reading  a  New  Haven 
paper.  The  doctor  apparently  was  deep  in  the 
study  of  a  ponderous  medical  work,  but  suddenly 
closing  the  volume  he  said,  "  Ralph  my  boy, 
glance  through  the  shipping  news.  What  vessels 
sail  within  a  week  ?  "  A  list  of  a  dozen  or  more 
schooners  and  brigs  was  read,  but  none  would  sail 
before  the  middle  of  May.  "  Don't  you  see  the 


STORM-SWEPT. 


schooner  Ivernia ;  Captain  Perkins,  I  believe?" 
"  Ah  !  here  it  is  in  the  list  of  yesterday's  arrivals, 
with  a  cargo  of  coal  from  Norfolk.  Then  she 
will  be  sailing  in  two  weeks  from  now.  That  is 
the  one  I  have  been  thinking  of.  I  fear  Leon 
will  never  amount  to  anything  unless  he  has  an 
entire  change ;  and  I  think  a  sea  voyage  will  do 
him  good,  brace  up  his  system,  strengthen  his 
nerves,  clear  his  brain,  and  bring  back  some  of  the 
vitality  he  lost  last  March.  Captain  Perkins  and 
I  were  at  school  together ;  and  if  he  is  the  same 
stamp  of  a  man  that  he  was  of  a  boy,  there  is  no 
doubt  but  that  I  can  make  quite  satisfactory 
arrangements.  Of  course  I  shall  shoulder  every 
cent  of  expense." 

For  several  moments  Ralph  sat  gazing  into  and 
beyond  the  bright  coal  fire  which  burned  in  the 
open  grate. 

"  Father  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  son  ?  " 

"  Would  it  be  safe  for  Leon  to  go  alone  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  could  arrange  it  so  it  would  be  per- 
fectly safe." 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  for  me  to  go  to  look 
after  him  ?  It  need  not  cost  you  anything, 
father,  I  would  gladly  work  my  passage  ;  but  I 


SHIP  WRECKED.  1 1 3 


do  want  to  do  something  toward  helping  forward 
his  recovery." 

"  I  rather  desired  you  to  stay  at  home  in  order 
to  make  further  preparations  for  college.  The 
term  opens  in  September,  you  know  ?  " 

"  But,  father,  I  have  no  heart  to  put  into  study 
till  I  am  sure  Leon  is  going  to  come  out  all  right. 
I  never  can  go  to  college  and  make  any  sort  of  a 
student,  unless  Leon  can  go  too,  and  carry  out 
some  of  his  cherished  plans.  I  would  gladly  lose 
a  year  out  of  my  life  if  I  might  make  some 
amends  for  the  suffering  I  have  caused  him  ;  " 
and  the  large  honest  face  looked  imploringly  up 
into  Dr.  Strong's. 

"  I  will  think  of  it,  Ralph,  and  now  we  will  go 
over  and  consult  with  Mrs.  Thorpe.  It  is  early 
enough — not  yet  eight." 

They  found  the  widow  busy  with  her  needle- 
work, Leon  having  already  retired.  Dr.  Strong 
made  known  his  errand,  and  said  at  the  close, 
"  don't  think  of  expense,  Mrs.  Thorpe  ;  for  I  feel 
it  my  duty  to  bring  that  boy  back  to  you  in  his 
former  well  condition,  if  it  is  possible  to  do  so." 
Tears  filled  the  mother's  eyes  and  silently  dropped 
upon  her  work  as  she  strove  to  regain  her  voice. 

Dr.  Strong  you  are  exceedingly  kind  and  thought- 
8 


114  STORM-SWEPT. 


ful,  and  I  prefer  that  you  do  exactly  as  you  think 
best  in  the  matter.  As  his  physican  and  friend 
you  know  better  than  I  whether  he  is  able  to 
stand  the  fatigue  of  the  journey." 

"  I  think  it  the  most  beneficial  course  that 
could  be  adopted.  Perhaps  it  will  please  you  to 
know  that  Ralph  intends  taking  the  trip  with 
him,  in  order  that  he  shall  be  made  as  comfortable 
in  all  ways  as  possible." 

Mrs.  Thorpe  looked  the  thanks  she  could  not 
speak.  They  arose  to  go,  but  Dr.  Strong  called 
back  before  closing  the  outer  door  behind  him,  "  I 
shall  look  up  Captain  Perkins  to-morrow,  Mrs. 
Thorpe,  and  see  what  arrangements  can  be  made.'' 
The  next  morning  found  the  doctor  in  the  Cap- 
tain's office  on  long  wharf.  A  notice  on  the  door 
read  that  the  captain  would  be  back  shortly  ;  so 
Doctor  Strong  took  a  seat  and  waited.  It  was 
years  since  he  had  been  on  long  wharf.  How 
the  place  had  changed.  Dock  after  dock  had 
been  built  out  into  the  sound,  and  ships,  counting 
into  the  hundreds,  could  easily  be  accommodated 
with  anchorage.  All  was  hurry  and  bustle,  as  the 
stevedores  loaded  and  unloaded  sundry  cargoes. 

How  we  go  on  in  our  lives,  year  after  year, 
little  thinking  of  the  changes  going  on  about  us, 


SHIP  WRE  CKED.  1 1 5 


until  some  happening  causes  us  to  pause  and  look 
around,  and  behold  it  is  as  though  we  had  step- 
ped into  a  strange  city.  Places  we  were  carrying 
in  our  minds  as  green  fields,  burst  upon  our  view 
like  the  work  of  genii,  all  transformed  into  parks, 
and  avenues  bordered  with  beautiful  residences  ; 
or  else,  quiet  streets  are  given  over  to  the  rat- 
tling drays  and  street-car  lines — familiar  houses 
gone,  and  towering  blocks  of  factories  making  a 
deafening  hum  and  clatter  :  but  we  were  too  late 
for  the  transformation  scene  ;  and  now  no  more 
on  memory's  walls  hang  restful  views  of  those 
pleasant  places,  for  a  thought  of  the  old  picture 
brings  on  the  panorama  which  is  a  result  of  pass- 
ing years. 

Dr.  Strong's  soliloquy  was  brought  to  a  close 
by  the  sound  of  heavy  footsteps  approaching, 
accompanied  by  a  rich  bass  voice,  singing  to  the 
air  of  Nancy  Lee, 

"  Afloat  on  the  staunch  Ivernia,  my  lads, 
Heave  ho  !    lads,  ho !  heave  ho,  heave  ho  I  " 

At  this  juncture  the  captain  opened  the  door 
and  discovered  the  doctor  awaiting  his  return. 

Arising,  the  latter  said,  "  You  seem  in  pretty 
good  spirits  this  morning,  Captain,  don't  look 


I 

1 1 6  S  TORM-S  WEP  T. 


much  like  a  fit  subject  for  medical  skill,"  at  the 
same  time  handing  him  his  card.  "  No,  Doctor, 
no — let  me  see — seems  as  though  your  face  was 
familiar — can't  just  place  you  though." 

"  Hardly  thought  you  would.  Suppose  you've 
forgotten  all  about  Professor  Lovell's  and  little 
Jack  Strong  that  you  and  Philip  Snyder  sent  up 
the  professer's  favorite  pear  tree  after  pears  one 
memorable  night  ?  " 

"  Ah,  ha,  well  not  quite  !  I  can  almost  hear  the 
professor  saying,  '  Look  at  them  gently,  boys.' 
And  so  you  are  little  Jack  Strong?  Glad  to 
renew  your  acquaintance,  Jack  ;  but  you've  grown 
considerable  since  then  ;  "  and  such  a  grip  and 
handshake  as  the  captain  gave  the  doctor  would 
have  made  a  less  strong  man  wince.  "  So  you 
dabble  in  medicines,  do  you,  and  I  sail  the  taut- 
est schooner  afloat  on  the  Sound.  Aye,  aye,  she's 
a  beauty,  she  is !  Do  you  see  her  over  there  at 
her  moorings  ?  Black,  green,  and  white  striped 
hulk.  We  sail  in  two  weeks,  perhaps  less  if  all 
goes  well.  Am  getting  her  load  off  sooner  than 
I  expected  ;  and  hope  to  make  the  most  of  this 
pleasant  spell  in  getting  on  a  cargo  of  lumber. 
Most  afraid  it's  a  weather-breeder  though." 

"  Then  I  am  in  good  season  !     Have  you  two 


SHIPWRECKED.  117 


bunks  to    let    to  a   couple    of  passengers  for  the 
round  trip  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  can  manage  it ;  who  wants  to  go  ?  " 
Then,  in  a  few  words,  the  doctor  explained 
how  matters  stood  ;  and  it  ended  in  the  captain 
saying,  "Well,  I  should  be  much  pleased  to  have 
the  boys  take  a  trip  with  me.  I  intended  taking 
my  daughter  Grace  along,  but  she  finally  backed 
out.  Reckon  she'll  be  sorry  now  when  she  hears 
there's  other  company.  She  thought  'twould  be 
rather  dull  music  along  with  such  an  old  fogy  as 
I  am.  Children  nowadays  are  queerer  than  they 
used  to  be,  I'm  thinking.  Mine  is,  anyhow,  I 
know.  Well,  send  them  along  as  early  as  possi- 
ble ;  for  we  expect  to  be  afloat  as  soon  as  we  can 
get  our  load  on." 

In  answer  to  further  inquiries  he  said,  "  We 
shall  be  back  in  port  by  the  last  of  June  at  the 
latest."  At  that  point  some  one  else  claimed  the 
captain's  attention,  and  the  doctor  took  his 
departure.  Mrs.  Thorpe  was  taken  entirely  by 
surprise  when  she  learned  that  the  boys  must  be 
in  readiness  to  sail  as  soon  as  possible  ;  but  the 
brave  little  woman  did  not  falter  now  when  the 
health  of  her  boy  was  at  stake  ;  so  she  made  ready 
as  far  as  lay  in  her  power,  and  Dr.  Strong  supplied 


1 1 8  S  TORM-SWEPT. 

the  deficiencies.  When  Leon  was  informed  of 
the  plan  he  acquiesced  most  heartily ;  being  glad 
of  a  chance  to  see  a  little  of  life  on  the  ocean. 
Ralph  was  on  his  way  to  Mrs.  Thorpe's,  when 
he  overtook  Olga  going  to  the  post-office,  and 
he  then  told  her  of  their  intended  trip.  She 
clapped  her  hands  with  delight.  "  I  am  so  glad," 
she  said,  "  for  I  haven't  a  doubt  but  that  it  will 
do  him  lots  of  good."  That  night  Doctor  Mitchell 
sent  down  to  Mrs.  Thorpe  a  steamer-chair  and 
rug  for  Leon's  use  during  the  voyage. 

The  day  after  the  boys  boarded  her,  the  Ivernia 
sailed  out  of  the  harbor,  and  past  the  break-water, 
and  in  a  few  hours  had  rounded  Montauk  Point, 
and  was  ploughing  the  blue  waters  of  the  Atlantic. 

The  second  day  out,  Ralph  was  leaning  against 
the  railing,  while  Leon,  wrapped  in  Doctor 
Mitchell's  comfortable  rug,  sat  enjoying  his  first 
full  day  on  the  ocean.  It  was  a  delightful  morn- 
ing, atmosphere  clear,  air  bracing,  sky  flecked 
with  billowy  clouds,  while  before  a  northwest 
wind  the  taut  little  schooner  sped  lightly  on 
toward  her  southern  port. 

The  third  day  out  dawned  clear  and  bright,  but 
as  the  day  advanced  the  castle-clouds  gathered 
apace,  and  a  pink  haze  hung  around  the  horizon. 


SHIP  WRECKED.  -119 


The  sea  settled  itself  into  even  billows  as  though 
quietly  signalling  its  resting  forces.  Up  from  the 
northwest  rose  the  storm  clouds,  and  as  night 
drew  on,  the  angry  waves  were  lashing  the  crafts 
afloat,  while  a  thick  chilling  rain-mantle  spread 
itself  over  a  sleeping  world.  Our  boys  were  cozily 
ensconced  in  the  cabin,  enjoying  a  game  of 
authors.  As  the  night  advanced  the  darkness 
grew  intense.  The  wind  blew  a  gale,  while,  with 
sails  closely  reefed,  and  every  movable  article 
fastened  to  the  deck,  the  Ivernia  fairly  flew  over 
the  mountainous  waves,  now  riding  the  foam- 
crested  billows,  and  anon  having  her  decks  swept 
by  the  angry  sea.  No  one  thought  of  going  to 
bed.  There  was  too  much  excitement  on  board, 
for  the  storm  promised  the  little  vessel  hard 
work,  if  she  weathered  it  through.  The  boys 
were  all  excitement  and  could  hardly  attend  to 
their  game,  for  the  Captain  had  forbidden  their 
going  on  deck.  "  Land-lubbers  hadn't  legs  that 
would  stand  under  them  during  a  heavy  sea,"  he 
said,  "  and  what  was  more,  he'd  rather  have  them 
get  fattened  up  a  little  more  before  he  sent  them 
down  to  feed  the  fishes." 

The   boys  obeyed  the   captain's   orders  much 
against  their  own  wishes.     Supper  was  served  at 


STORM-SWEPT. 


seven  o'clock,  and  shortly  after  the  captain  went 
on  deck.  With  his  glass  he  scanned  the  horizon. 
Inky  darkness  prevailed,  but  about  five  miles 
away  shone  the  green  light  on  the  port  side 
of  a  vessel  This  gave  the  captain  no  uneasiness 
as  the  Ivernia's  lights  were  burning,  and  must 
have  been  visible  to  people  on  board  the  other 
ship.  As  they  rapidly  approached  her  the  flash- 
light was  turned  to  show  that  a  sailing  vessel  was 
near  ;  the  steamer,  for  such  it  proved  to  be,  kept 
on  its  way,  never  altering  its  course,  and  Captain 
Perkins  began  to  fear  there  would  be  a  collision. 
"  Hard  a  port  !  hard  a  port !  "  he  shouted  ;  and 
like  a  race-horse  the  Ivernia  started  forward. 

The  next  instant  the  steamer  too  plunged 
ahead,  as  if  incensed  at  a  possibility  of  losing 
her  prey  ;  and,  in  a  breath,  the  Ivernia  struck  her 
amidships  tearing  a  great  hole  in  her  side.  The 
schooner's  bowsprit  swept  the  steamer's  deck  and 
knocked  the  captain  from  the  bridge.  Then  the 
vessel  swung  about  until  almost  side  by  side,  and 
for  a  fraction  of  a  second  there  was  the  solemn 
hush  of  death.  Then  burst  forth  a  chorus  of 
agonizing  human  cries.  On  the  great  steamer's 
decks  men  and  women  darted  hither  and  thither, 
and  soon  was  heard  thud  after  thud  as  they 


SHIPWRECKED. 


jumped  down  upon  the  Ivernia's  decks.  All  on 
board  the  schooner  had  rushed  to  the  scene  of 
horror.  Alas  !  the  Ivernia  was  \vounded  as  badly 
as  the  steamer. 

"  To  the  boats,  to  the  boats !"  shouted  Captain 
Perkins,  whose  face  showed  pale  to  the  lips  as  he 
stood  under  the  light  of  the  binnacle  lamp  ;  and 
with  a  broad  axe  they  cut  away  the  fastenings  of 
the  long  boat. 

"  Forward,  men  !"  he  shouted.  It  was  a  fight 
for  life  to  keep  back  the  interlopers.  One  by  one 
the  Ivernia's  men  dropped  into  their  places.  "Are 
you  all  there,"  the  captain  shouted. 

"  All  but  Matt,"  called  back  one  of  the  seamen. 
"  He  ran  aft  when  the  vessel  struck." 

A  glance  in  that  direction  discovered  him  lying 
apparently  dead  on  the  deck.  Kind-hearted  Cap- 
tain Perkins  was  at  his  side  in  an  instant,  feeling 
for  his  heart.  Life  was  still  there.  Lifting  him 
in  his  strong  arms  he  staggered  to  the  side  of  the 
vessel  where  the  long  boat  lay,  the  crew  almost 
crazy  in  their  endeavors  to  keep  off  the  strangers 
who  nearly  overturned  the  boat,  in  their  attempts 
to  save  themselves. 

"  Dead  ! "  whispered  Leon  as  he  saw  the 
blanched  face. 


STORM-SWEPT. 


'"  Only  stunned,"  said  the  captain ;  and  then  all 
held  their  breaths  as  they  rowed  away  from  the 
sinking  vessels. 

Some  of  the  steamer's  crew  had  secured  the 
gang-plank.  There  were  fourteen  clinging  to  it. 
The  long  boat  passed  them,  and  the  captain  threw 
them  a  rope.  The  next  instant  he  regretted  it, 
for  the  half-crazy  men  attempted  to  make  their 
way  by  it  to  the  boat  already  full.  His  first 
thought  was  to  keep  them  in  tow  until  relief 
should  possibly  come.  He  shouted  to  them  and 
threatened  to  cut  the  rope  if  one  attempted  to 
board  the  boat ;  and  as  he  stood  knife  in  hand, 
they  knew  he  meant  what  he  said,  consequently 
no  further  attempts  were  made  to  reach  the  boat. 
Soon  an  extra  heavy  sea  turned  the  frail  raft 
bottom  up  and  all  went  over  with  it.  Seven 
caught  the  plank  as  the  waves  strove  to  carry  it 
beyond  their  reach  ;  then,  with  giant  strength, 
regained  a  position  upon  it.  A  moment  later  an- 
other big  wave  washed  over  it,  and  but  five  were 
left.  Poor  creatures,  still  tenacious  of  life  !  They 
were  in  the  water  hanging  on  to  the  plank  with 
their  hands  and  arms,  too  exhausted  to  climb 
upon  it.  Their"  heads  lay  on  the  board  and  only 
for  the  convulsive  tightening  of  their  arms  when 


SHIPWRECKED. 


123 


the  sea  washed  over  them,  one  would  have 
thought  they  were  dead.  They  grew  uncon- 
scious, and  as  the  relentless  waves  washed  over 
them,  one  by  one  they  slipped  quietly  off  into 
eternity.  One  alone  was  left.  A  man  with  sil- 
vered hair,  and  face  haggard  to  look  upon.  Stolid 
and  stubborn  he  still  clung  to  the  raft. 

"  Crowd  a  little  closer,  men,"  said  the  captain, 
"  we'll  take  this  fellow  aboard  if  we  can." 

The  sailors  rested  on  their  oars,  the  raft  was 
drawn  up  alongside  the  boat ;  and  the  solitary 
voyager  was  helped  aboard. 

"  Thank  God  ! "  he  huskily  whispered  as  he 
grasped  the  captain's  hand. 

On  they  kept  on  their  silent  course,  while  all 
about  intense  quiet  reigned.  Where  at  first  was 
an  endless  chorus  of  screams  and  prayers  for  help, 
there  was  now  only  silence.  The  men  seemed 
struck  dumb.  Occasionally  a  dead  body  would 
slip  by  in  the  cold  water,  face  up,  in  the  light  of 
the  moon,  which  scudded  in  and  out  from  behind 
the  fringes  of  the  storm  clouds.  Behind  rose  the 
tall  masts  of  the  sunken  vessels  with  a  few  dark 
forms  clinging  to  the  spars.  They  had  stopped 
rowing  and  were  drifting  with  the  tide.  Day  was 
dawning  and  weary  eyes  were  strained  to  catch 


124  STORM-SWEPT. 


sight  of  a  sail.  Hope,  fear  and  suspense,  were 
stamped  upon  the  faces  of  every  one.  About  four 
in  the  morning  an  ocean  steamer  was  sighted,  and 
a  flag  of  distress  was  raised.  They  were  discov- 
ered, and  soon  the  steamer  was  seen  to  alter  her 
course,  and  then  out  there  in  that  awful  stillness, 
between  the  sky  and  the  solemn  deep,  those  ship- 
wrecked sailors  raised  their  voices  in  thanks  to 
him  who  holds  the  ocean  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand.  It  was  a  solemn  moment,  never  to  be  for- 
gotten, when  those  storm-tossed  men  sent  swell- 
ing over  the  rolling  waves  the  grand  old  doxology 
we  all  know  and  love  so  well.  And  then  the  res- 
cuers arrived.  All  were  taken  on  board, — yes, 
even  poor  stunned  Matt  who  had  all  those  hours 
lain  unconscious  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 
Ralph  trembled  with  apprehension  of  harm  com- 
ing to  Leon  by  this  seemingly  untimely  accident, 
but  hastened  to  secure  the  aid  of  the  ship's  phy- 
sician who  took  charge  of  the  invalid.  The  next 
day  Leon  was  obliged  to  remain  in  his  berth,  but 
toward  night  begged  of  Ralph  to  go  on  deck  and 
find  out  what  he  could  of  their  surroundings. 
They  were  on  board  the  Ocean  Queen,  for  all  the 
articles  in  their  state-room  were  marked  with  that 
name.  The  doctor  had  answered,  when  asked 


SHIPWRECKED. 


I25 


whither  they  were  bound,  "  For  the  West  Indies." 
Leaving  Leon  comfortably  asleep,  Ralph  started 
on  a  tour  of  inspection,  in  order  to  gain  further 
information.  On  reaching  the  deck  his  eyes  at 
once  alighted  on  an  imposing  figure.  It  was  a 
tall,  squarely-built  man,  not  much  over  fifty ; 
though  his  hair  and  beard  would  tell  of  a  greater 
weight  of  years,  Wrapped  in  a  large  gray  shawl, 
and  with  a  glazed  cap  settled  on  his  head,  he 
stood,  glass  in  hand,  looking  off  over  the  broad 
expanse  of  waves  gilded  by  the  setting  sun. 
Clouds  like  molten  gold  hung  in  the  west,  while 
between  them  and  the  reflected  gold  of  the  ocean, 
up  into  the  sky  shot  great  shafts  of  hazy  light.  A 
dark  bank  of  clouds  spread  all  through  the  east- 
ern sky,  and  far  into  the  zenith ;  and  then  like  a 
dissolving  view,  a  glorious  rainbow  stood  out  pre- 
dominant in  gold,  a  golden  bow  upon  a  purple 
curtain  of  cloud.  The  effect  was  sublime,  and  our 
wrecked  friends  gladly  grasped  the  thought  that 
the  future  might  promise  brighter  than  the  past. 
As  the  bright  glory  faded,  and  the  rainbow  dis- 
appeared, Ralph  approached  the  strange  gentle- 
man, but  scarcely  recognized  in  him  the  haggard 
gray-locked  man  whom  he  had  seen  rescued  from 
the  raft  early  that  morning.  Indeed,  it  seemed  as 


126  STORM-SWEPT. 


though  an  interminable  period  had  elapsed  since 
then.  So  much  can  be  crowded  into  a  little  space 
of  time,  that  it  makes  that  time  appear  longer 
than  years  with  lesser  happenings. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  what  port  we  are  bound 
for?"  was  Ralph's  query,  as  he  paused  beside 
the  strange  gentleman. 

"  Then  you  are  a  companion  in  misery?  " 

"  Yes,  the  Ivernia  was  pretty  badly  shattered." 

"The  Ivernia?  H'm  !  I  hold  stock  in  her. 
That  means  a  trip  to  New  Haven.  Where  is 
your  captain?" 

"  Below,  sir,  I  think.  I  haven't  seen  him  since 
morning.  In  fact  I  have  only  just  left  my  friend 
for  a  few  moments  in  order  to  ascertain  our 
whereabouts.  He  is  an  invalid,  and  pretty  well 
shocked  by  the  collision." 

"  I  understand  our  destination  is  Nassau,  New 
Providence  ;  one  of  the  Bahamas.  A  thoroughly 
delightful  place." 

"  Then  you  have  been  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  my  business  frequently  takes  me 
there;  though  just  now  I  would  much  prefer 
going  in  an  opposite  direction." 

Placing  his  hand  in  an  inside  pocket,  he  drew 
out  a  water-stained  card. 


SHIPWRECKED. 


I27 


"  That  much  survives  the  wreck,  '  he  said  with 
a  half  smile. 

"  Was  there  any  one  belonging  to  you  on 
board  the  steamer  ?  "  said  Ralph,  as  he  read  on 
the  slip  of  bristol  board,  Reginald  Dean,  Attorney 
at  Law,  New  York. 

"  No  one  but  myself,"  came  the  answer  in  a 
saddened  tone. 

"  Is  it  possible  you  are  the  Lawyer  Dean  whom 
my  father  so  much  admires?  I  wonder  if  it  was 
you  who  so  successfully  handled  the  Vandercroft 
lawsuit  some  ten  years  ago  ?  " 

"  I  am  the  man." 

"  My  father,  Dr.  John  Strong,  often  refers  to 
you.  He  was  one  of  the  heirs,  if  you  remember." 
And  this  was  but  the  beginning  of  a  lasting  friend- 
ship which  sprang  up  between  two  noble  natures. 
Was  it  by  accident  they  had  come  together ;  or 
rather  a  part  of  the  plan  of  the  Omnipotent  ? 

"  How  soon  do  you  think  we  shall  reach  Nas- 
sau ?"  was  the  next  commonplace  offered  by 
Ralph.  It  was  a  little  harder  to  converse 
with  this  man  now  Ralph  had  found  out  who 
he  was.  He  was  ready  to  sit  at  his  feet  and 
learn. 

"  Probably  in   about  two   days.     We  were  off 


I28  S  TORiM-S  IV EP  T. 


Hatteras  at  the  time  of  the  wreck.  Look  here — 
do  you  see  that  line  to  the  southeast  ? "  at  the 
same  time  handing  the  glass  to  Ralph. 

"  I  do." 

"  That  is  Abaco  Island.  Before  long  we  shall 
be  able  to  discern  the  light-house  and  trees  on 
the  land.  I  have  already  observed  some  of 
Mother  Carey's  chickens  chasing  us  astern  ;  and 
see,  those  are  dolphins  racing  about  our  bow. 
We  may  be  in  Nassau  early  day  after  to-morrow. 
It  is  a  most  delightful  place." 

"  I  have  never  heard  of  the  place  beyond  study- 
ing a  little  about  it  at  school  " 

"  It  is  by  far  the  cleanest  city  in  the  world, 
and  a  great  resort  for  invalids;  though  by  no 
means  will  you  find  the  people  all  invalids." 

"  Indeed  !  Then  perhaps  this  unexpected  trip 
is  a  providential  one  for  my  friend.  By  the  way, 
how  often  do  steamers  sail  for  New  York  ?  " 

"  Every  four  weeks  in  summer,  and  every  t\vo 
weeks  in  winter ;  though  a  steamer  goes  to 
Florida  twice  a  week.  In  that  way  one  can  com- 
municate with  his  friends  frequently." 

"  How  is  the  climate  during  the  summer 
months  ?" 

"Almost  too  warm  to  stay  long  at  this  season, 


SHIPWRECKED.  129 


though     the     thermometer     averages     only    86 
degrees  throughout  the  summer." 

"  Then  it  will  perhaps  do  Leon  more  good  than 
harm." 

"  May  I  ask  who  is  this  friend  over  whom  you 
seem  to  have  so  much  care  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  class-mate  of  mine.  I  am  in  a 
measure  to  blame  that  he  is  an  invalid  ;  so  I  am 
trying  to  help  my  father  make  a  well  boy  of 
him."  Then  Ralph  told  Mr.  Dean  of  the  accident 
on  the  ice.  In  conclusion  he  said,  "  I  only  hope 
this  unlucky  mishap  will  not  do  him  harm." 

"  Do  not  say  unlucky,  my  lad  ;  for  it  may 
result  in  being  the  most  fortunate  turn  things 
could  have  taken.  Such  an  accident  is  a  mere 
trifle,  when  compared  with  the  troubles  which 
come  into  some  people's  lives  ;  "  and  with  a  heavy 
sigh  Mr.  Dean  turned  his  face  away  to  the  north- 
ward. Ralph  went  below  and  finding  Leon  yet 
sleeping,  procured  ink  and  paper,  and  began  a 
letter  home.  He  had  written  but  a  few  lines  when 
the  sleeper  stirred  uneasily  and  was  soon  awake. 
It  did  not  take  long  for  Ralph  to  give  a  brief 
account  of  his  visit  on  deck. 
9 


130  STOKM-SIVEPT, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TWO     SURPRISES. 

"  In  life's  earnest  conquest  they  only  prevail, 
Who  daily  march  onward  and  never  say  fail." 

APTAIN  PERKINS  also  had  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  Dean,  and  the 
quartette  held  frequent  interesting  in- 
terviews. They  stood  in  a  group  on 
deck  when  the  pilot  came  aboard  soon  after  day- 
break on  the  day  but  one  following  the  fore- 
going conversation.  Their  first  view  of  Nassau 
was  indeed  a  treat  for  the  boys  with  eyes  weary 
of  watching  the  sea.  The  harbor  a  sheet  of  spark- 
ling green  lying  between  the  steamer  and  that 
isle  of  June,  was  a  decided  change  from  the  deep 
blue  waves  over  which  the  steamer  had  been 
riding.  But  the  city  with  its  waving  palms, 
bananas,  low  smooth  houses,  white  streets,  and 
multitudinous  swarthy  faces,  was  a  strange  sight 
to  two  New  England  lads.  As  they  landed  at 


TWO  SURPRISES.  131 

the  wharf,  it  seemed  as  if  something  new  met 
them  at  every  turn.  Loads  of  sponges,  cargoes 
of  fish,  melons,  fruits  and  vegetables  strange  to 
northern  eyes.  Black  men  and  women  carrying 
burdens  upon  their  heads,  and  here  and  there 
white  people  dressed  in  duck  goods  and  summer 
silks.  Mr.  Dean  guided  them  to  the  Royal  Vic- 
toria Hotel,  and  helped  them  to  feel  at  home. 
The  day  following  their  arrival,  while  out  on  a 
tour  of  inspection,  the  boys  discovered  a  native 
pounding  a  soft  spot  into  a  rock  with  a  crow- 
bar. 

"  Good-morning,  my  friend,  what  are  you 
about,"  inquired  Ralph. 

"  Mornin',  sah ;  on'y  jest  plantin'  a  rose-tree." 

"  What,  in  that  rock  ?  " 

"Yes,  sah,  tings  grows  dat  way  heah,  sah;" 
and  the  fellow  sat  down  to  rest  inviting  conversa- 
tion. 

"You  don't  mean  all  things  are  planted  this 
way,"  said  Leon. 

"  Sartin  shuah,  dey  grows  wild  too,  outen  de 
stone  walls,  sah." 

"Then  this  must  be  a  peculiar  stone  ;  "  and 
Leon  stooped  and  picked  up  a  piece. 

"  Limestone,  sah.     De  whole  island  is  made  of 


132  STORM-SWEPT. 


it,  so  are  de  houses.     De  watah  filters  through  it, 
dat  makes  tings  grow,  sah." 

They  came  across  one  thing  after  another  to 
arouse  wonder  and  delight,  until  the  boys  wished 
that  the  doctor  and  Mrs.  Thorpe  were  there,  too; 
for  then  their  happiness  would  have  been  com- 
plete. It  would  be  three  days  before  the  Florida 
steamer  would  sail  again,  so  the  boys  contented 
themselves  with  seeing  the  sights,  doing  the  city, 
and  visiting  near-by  points  of  interest.  The  day 
before  the  steamer  sailed,  Ralph  spent  every  spare 
moment  he  could  muster,  as  his  letter  will  testify, 
in  going  into  rhapsodies  over  the  beauties  of  the 
place  they  had  reached  after  the  terrors  of  the 
wreck.  He  ended  with  a  pressing  invitation  to 
his  father  to  bring  'Mrs.  Thorpe  down  and  see  if 
Nassau  wasn't  about  as  near  a  paradise  as  could 
be  on  earth.  -The  ship's  doctor  had  ordered  rest 
and  quiet  for  Leon,  so  to  return  home  at  once 
was  out  of  the  question  ;  and  if  one  place  more 
than  another  was  suited  to  invalids  it  surely  was 
in  this  pure  air,  and  amid  the  beautiful  sights  of 
this  wonderful  island  city.  We  shall  have  a 
better  knowledge  of  the  wonders  of  the  place  if 
we  look  over  Dr.  Strong's  shoulder  as  he  eagerly 
reads  the  letter  which  he  has  so  hastily  opened. 


TWO  SURPRISES.  133 

The  papers  had  contained  rumors  of  the  wreck, 
but  nothing  definite  ;  so  Ralph's  letter  was  relief 
from  a  fearful  suspense. 

"  DEAR  FATHER, 

"  We  are  safe" — "  Thank  God,"  said  Doctor 
Strong,  and  he  hastened  to  Mrs.  Thorpe's  cottage 
before  he  read  another  word. 

He  repeated  the  words,  "  They  are  safe,"  as  he 
entered  the  cottage  door. 

"  God  is  ever  ready  to  answer  prayer,  Doctor 
Strong.  I  felt  he  would  not  send  more  than  I 
could  bear.  Where  are  they,  and  what  of  them  ?  " 
And  then  they  sat  down  in  the  bright  glow  of 
the  setting  sun,  and  the  doctor  read  aloud  the 
letter. 

"  NASSAU,  N.  P.,  June ,  188 — . 

"  DEAR  FATHER,  AND  MRS.  THORPE, 

"  We  are  safe  here  in  Nassau,  where  the  steamer 
which  picked  us  up  was  bound.  Leon  is  brighten- 
ing up  wonderfully.  Either  the  shock  of  the  wreck, 
or  the  delightfulness  of  this  climate  has  worked  a 
decided  change  in  him.  You  will  both  be  pleased 
to  see  how  well  he  is  getting  on.  Of  course,  before 
this,  you  have  read  accounts  of  the  wreck.  It  will 


134  STORM-SWEPT. 


fill  a  book  to  go  into  all  the  particulars.  Only  one 
passenger  that  we  know  of  was  saved  from  the 
steamer  which  struck  us.  He  is  a  splendid  man, 
and  you  will  be  glad  we  have  become  acquainted 
with  him,  I  know.  I  enclose  his  card  which  he 
gave  me.  He  is  the  identical  Vandercroft  law- 
yer. Won't  you  be  glad  to  see  him  ?  He  has  to 
go  to  New  Haven  on  business  ;  he  owned  stock 
in  the  Ivernia,  it  seems.  This  affair  seems  to  be 
working  out  just  like  a  story,  though  as  the  say- 
ing goes,  truth  is  stranger  than  fiction,  and  it 
surely  seems  so.  Mr.  Dean  took  us  to  the  Royal 
Victoria  Hotel — the  finest  in  the  place.  He  has 
been  here  before  and  has  helped  us  to  have  a  very 
pleasant  time.  Captain  Perkins  is  here  also,  and 
does  everything  he  can  to  make  it  pleasant  for 
us.  When  I  get  home  I  will  tell  you  how  bravely 
he  went  back  and  rescued  one  of  his  crew — a  man 
who  has  sailed  with  him  for  some  years.  His 
head  is  hurt,  so  that  his  mind  seems  partly  gone, 
but  he  is  all  right  otherwise. 

"  Captain  Perkins  says  he  will  never  see  him 
want.  Matt  follows  us  around  like  a  faithful 
animal.  He  seems  to  know  we  are  his  friends, 
poor  fellow  !  He  is  large  and  well-built,  and  will 
be  able  to  work  again,  but  he  doesn't  seem  to 


TWO  SURPRISES.  135 


remember  a  thing  that  has  happened.  I  feel  so 
sorry  for  him.  I  wonder  if  you  couldn't  set  him  at 
work  around  home.  He'll  do  anything  you  tell 
him  to.  I  know  Captain  Perkins  would  be  de- 
lighted if  you  would,  but  I'm  sure  he  wouldn't 
think  of  asking  such  a  favor. 

"  I  tell  you,  father,  this  is  a  wonderful  place.  A 
sort  of  Paradise  on  earth.  I  never  imagined 
there  could  be  such  lovely  place.  The  average 
temperature  is  only  74.  I  am  sitting  on  the  veran- 
da at  our  hotel  enjoying  the  delightful  sea-breeze 
as  I  write.  All  around  us  stretches  the  ocean,  dot- 
ted with  white-sailed  boats,  which,  as  well  as  a  little 
steam-tug,  make  short  excursions  to  the  near  or 
distant  islands  of  this  Bahama  group.  You  would 
never  tire  of  looking  at  the  sea.  A  long  narrow 
green  island,  like  a  strip  of  velvet,  runs  along  our 
front,  separating  the  ocean  proper  from  us,  and 
forming  this  quiet  beautiful  harbor,  and  you  would 
hardly  believe  it  if  I  should  tell  you  how  many 
shades  of  colorthe  water  takes  on.  You  should  see 
the  wonderful  colored  fishes  which  are  brought  to 
the  hotel  every  day ;  some  are  mottled  like  the  shell 
of  a  tortoise,  some  are  a  bright  indigo,  others  are 
striped  with  canary  yellow,  and  others  are  all 
over  a  bright  red. 


136  STORM-SWEPT. 


^"The  air  here  is  perfectly  restful,  and  the  little 
cily  with  its  coral  houses,  creamy-yellow  and 
golden-brown,  with  the  many-gabled  red  roofs 
without  chimneys  is  a  pretty  sight.  A  girl  would 
go  into  ecstasies  over  it.  Through  the  waving 
boughs  of  the  cocoanut  trees,  I  watch  the  water 
gleaming  clear  as  crystal,  but  of  a  lovely  turquoise 
blue,  then  beyond  is  a  strip  of  emerald,  and 
farther  away  the  dark  blue  of  the  horizon,  while 
everywhere  are  white  sails.  In  the  channel  are 
half-submerged  wrecks,  relics  of  the  time  when 
wrecking  was  a  profession  around  here.  We  have 
been  in  the  sea-gardens,  where  with  a  sea-glass 
one  can  look  down  to  the  bottom  and  see  the 
lovely  ferns  and  lilies  and  sponges  and  coral  and 
colored  fishes,  and  I  don't  know  what  not.  With 
a  glass  you  can  see  objects  at  a  depth  of  forty 
feet.  Last  night  we  went  to  the  lake  of  fire  at 
Waterloo.  We  stood  on  the  bank,  and  it  looked 
like  an  ordinary  lake,  but  the  instant  we  pushed 
off  and  dipped  our  oars  it  seemed  to  burst  into 
flame.  Every  drop  from  the  blades  was  like 
silver.  It  certainly  is  the  most  wonderful  sight  I 
ever  saw.  The  bishop's  yacht  will  be  here  one 
of  these  days,  they  say.  It  is  a  sort  of  chapel  on 
board  a  boat.  There  are  pews  and  a  pulpit. 


TWO  SURPRISES.  137 


When  the  bell  tolls  the  people  know  it  is  church 
time.  Before  many  days  we  are  going  to  Grants- 
town  to  see  the  sights  there.  It  is  a  town  of 
three  thousand  inhabitants,  all  colored  ;  and  they 
grow  pineapples,  bananas  and  cocoanuts  around 
their  houses.  The  caves,  and  the  Queen's  stair- 
case are  other  places  we  expect  to  visit.  The 
rainy  reason  will  soon  be  here,  and  we  shall  have 
to  be  making  tracks  for  home,  I  suppose  ;  but  I 
tell  you,  there's  a  great  change  in  Leon.  Tell 
Olga  and  Nellie  we'll  bring  them  each  a  string  of 
beads.  Don't  forget  to  send  us  some  money. 
Love  to  you  and  Leon's  mother. 

"  RALPH  and  LEON." 

In  Dr.  Strong's  answer  to  Ralph  he  said,  "Tell 
Captain  Perkins  not  to  dispose  of  his  man  till  he 
has  seen  me  ;  "  and  Ralph  knew  that  business 
was  settled. 

"  Mrs.  Thorpe  ; "  and  Doctor  Strong  sat  back 
in  his  chair,  an  intensely  thoughtful  expression 
settling  over  his  large  honest  face.  "  Mrs. 
Thorpe,"  he  reiterated,  "  Ralph  needs  a  mother, 
and  Leon  needs  a  father,  are  you  willing  to  be  a 
mother  to  my  motherless  boy  ?  " 


138  STORM-SWEPT. 


Then,  without  moving  a  muscle,  he  sat  quietly 
awaiting  her  answer. 

"  I  fear,  Doctor  Strong,  that  your  generosity  is 
getting  the  better  of  you." 

"  It  is  you  who  will  be  acting  the  generous 
part.  Mrs.  Thorpe,  I  respect  you  in  the  highest 
degree,  and  Leon  I  already  love.  My  home 
needs  not  a  housekeeper,  but  a  homekeeper — a 
mother;  and  I  know  of  no  woman  to  whom  I 
could  more  conscientiously  pledge  my  heart  and 
life,  and  the  love  of  my  son." 

"  I  accept  your  offer,  Dr.  Strong,  and  will  en- 
deavor to  make  your  home  a  happy  one."  It 
was  a  matter-of-fact  wooing,  of  the  most  sensible 
sort.  When  Ralph  and  Leon  reached  home,  they 
found  this  surprise  in  store  for  them,  but,  as  the 
parents  had  anticipated,  both  boys  were  equally 
well  pleased.  Captain  Perkins  brought  Matt  with 
him,  and  Dr.  Strong  took  him  as  an  experiment. 
He  proved  himself  worthy  of  his  hire.  The 
present  was  well  remembered,  but  the  past  was  a 
blank  ;  yet  he  looked  forward  to  the  future  as 
being  alive  with  possibilities.  He  was  more  eager 
than  a  school-boy  to  learn  his  lessons,  and  made 
quite  rapid  progress  under  his  two  tutors,  Ralph 
and  Leon.  Matt  soon  proved  himself  so  trusty 


TWO  SURPRISES. 


139 


and  faithful,  that  the  doctor  began  to  wonder 
how  he  had  ever  gotten  along  without  him.  The 
boys  were  not  of  much  use,  as  both  were  prepar- 
ing for  college. 

The  morning  after  the  wedding,  Sabra  Denton 
came  hastily  into  Mrs.  Pritchard's  by  the  back 
door.  Sabra  seemed  in  an  extra  twitter  this  par- 
ticular morning.  She  was  just  bubbling  over 
with  some  delicious  draught  of  news ;  and  was 
only  waiting  for  Mrs.  Pritchard  to  ask  as  usual, 

"  Well,  Sabra,  what  on  airth  is  up  now  ?  " 

"  Hain't  you  heard  the  news,  Mis'  Pritchard? 
Hain't  you  expected  it  right  along  ?  I  expected 
it,  and  yet  I  didn't.  I'm  a  leetle  bit  surprised  some 
ways,  and  some  I  ain't." 

"  Well,  Sabra,  supposin'  you  begin  at  the  be- 
ginnin',  and  tell  me  what  you're  talkin'  about." 

"  Land  to  goodness  !  Air  you  deef,  dumb  and 
blind,  Mis'  Pritchard  ?  That  old  dolt  of  a  Doctor 
Strong,  that  I  wouldn't  hev  to  our  old  cat  Bije, 
got  married — married  I  say — last  night  to  our 
proud  widder,  Lady  Thorpe  !  There !  you've 
got  it  straight  !  Would  you  a-thought  it  ?  Was 
you  expectin'  it  ?" 

"To  tell  the  truth,  Sabra,  I  hain't  thought 
much  about  it.  I  have  noticed  that  he  took  an 


140  STORM-SWEPT. 

uncommon  interest  in  her  boy,  and  I've  seen  him 
goin'  back  and  forward  there  considerable,  but  I 
most  thought  they  was  too  old  for  such  nonsense, 
but  then,  I  allus  did  say  that  you  never  can  tell 
by  the  looks  of  a  toad  how  far  it's  a-going  to 
jump." 

"  And  is  that  all  you've  got  to  say  about  it, 
Mis'  Pritchard  ?  Why,  it  clean  took  my  breath 
away  !  It  beats  all  I  ever  heard  in  the  known 
world  !  Everybody  knows  she's  thought  that 
doctor  was  a  little  god  on  wheels,  ever  sense  he 
took  so  much  notice  of  Leon  after  he  got  hurt 
on  the  ice.  I  kinder  thought  all  that  palaver 
wasn't  fer  nothin',  and  I  told  Geoff  so.  Sez  I, 
'  You'll  see  somethin'  come  out  of  it  yet. ' 

"  '  May  be,'  sez  Geoff. 

' '  Hum,  may  bees  don't  fly  'cept  in  May,' 
sez  I." 

"  Hev  you  ever  seen  'em  out  together,  Sabra  ?  " 

"  No,  can't  say  as  I  have,  though  I've  seen  his 
carriage  standin'  there  pretty  often,  and  for  a 
good  long  while  at  a  time,  too.  I  shouldn't  a 
thought  she'd  a-liked  the  looks  of  that.  I  shouldn't, 
I  know.  I'll  bet  there'll  be  music  there  yet. 
Where  there's  mixt  lots  of  children  there  allus  is 
a  breeze." 


TWO  SURPRISES.  141 


"I  wonder  if  she'll  go  to  the  doctor's  right 
away?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  ain't  no  doubt  of  that,  fer  there 
warn't  no  light  in  Mis'  Thorpe's  house  last  night 
when  I  came  home  after  takin'  Mis'  Mitchell's 
butter  over.  She  warn't  to  hum,  so  I  s'pose  I'll 
have  ter  go  again.  Probably  she  was  out  to  the 
weddin'  too." 

"  I  wonder  what  she  wore  and  where  they  was 
married  ?  " 

"  Married  to  hum,  of  course,  in  her  brown  silk, 
or  a  new  one  just  like  it.  We  can  tell  better  if 
she  walks  out  in  it  A  Sunday." 

"  S'pose  now  the  Alden  Cottage'll  be  fer  rent. 
Wonder  who'll  get  it  next  ?  " 

"  I  s'pose  she'll  keep  a  girl?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe  she's  strong  enough  to 
take  care  of  three  men  and  that  great  house.  Bet 
she'll  have  a  picnic  straightenin'  it  out,  for  there 
hain't  been  no  woman  there,  only  hired  help,  in  a 
good  many  years." 

"  Wonder  how  the  boys'll  take  it  ?  " 

"Guess  there'll  be  some  hifalutin';  fer  when 
boys  get  ter  be  as  big  as  they  be  they're  not  a- 
goin'  to  stand  many  innovations." 

"  Laws,  Geoff's  young  'uns  was  hard  enough  ter 


X 

1 42  STORM-SWEPT. 


get  along  with,  and  they  was  little  ;  but  then  I 
was  their  mother's  sister,  and  could  stand  more 
from  'em  than  most  folks  could,  perhaps.  Well, 
it'll  come  out  sooner  or  later,  sech  affairs  allus  dus." 

"  You  seem  to  hev  figgered  it  all  out,  Sabra. 
Hain't  left  much  fer  me  to  do." 

"  Well,  own  up  you  air  beat,  Mis'  Pritchard  ; 
did  you  really  expect  it  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  cut  up,  Sabra,  but  didn't  you  have 
a  little  weakness  there  yourself  once?" 

"  Land  o'  goodness,  no  !  I  hain't  no  time  fer 
such  stuff  and  nonsense.  Didn't  I  just  tell  you  I 
wouldn't  have  him  to  doctor-  the  cat  ?  Oh,  no,  I 
'ain't  lookin'  arfter  no  man.  They're  considerable 
bother,  I  don't  know  what  Geoff  would  do  either. 
He  sets  a  sight  o'  store  by  me,  Geoff  does.  I've 
.allus  been  a  mother  to  his  children.  Mis' Pritchard, 
I  want  to  ask  your  advice  about  a  little  matter  of 
business.  When  Geoff  heard  of  Dr.  Strong  and 
Miss  Thorpe,  what  do  you  suppose  he  said  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure  !  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  said,  sez  he,  Geoff  did " 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Sabra,  you  ain't 
goin'  to  have  a  fit  air  you  ?  Yer  face  is  es  red  es 
a  beet  and  yer  tremblin'." 

"  No,  I  ain't  goin'  to  have  no  fit,  I  guess  I'm 


TWO  SURPRISES. 


goin'  to  have  a  husband.  Guess  I've  as  good  a 
right  to  get  one  as  Widder  Thorpe." 

"  Why,  what  are  you  gettin'  at,  Sabra  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  ask  your  advice.  I  thought  I'd  see 
if  you'd  make  strange  about  the  doctor  and  Mis' 
Thorpe  before  I  told  you.  Geoff  sez,  sez  he, 
'Well,  Sabra,  can't  we  get  jined  too?  Then  we'll 
all  be  a  nine  days'  wonder  together.'  You  don't 
think  there's  no  wrong  in  marryin'  my  sister's 
husband,  do  you  ?  I'm  gettin'  along  in  years, 
and  if  I'm  ever  a-goin'  to  git  any  one  ter  lean  on, 
I'd  better  be  about  gittin'  'em,  sez  I." 

"  Well,  well,  Sabra,  now  you  have  clean  took 
my  breath  away ;  but  I'll  tell  you  the  honest 
truth,  I've  often  and  often  wondered  why  you 
and  Geoffrey  didn't  get  married,  fer  you  seem  to 
get  along  so  nicely  together,  allus." 

"  Thank  ye,  Mis'  Pritchard,  said  Sabra,  smiling 
and  rising.  "  You'll  probably  see  both  couple  of 
us  walkin'  out  next  Sunday.  We  shall  make 
short  work  of  it.  We're  too  old  to  be  gittin'  up 
outfits  and  sech." 

"  Say,  Sabra,  sit  down  a  minute;.  I  hear 
Deacon  Argyle  is  goin'  to  send  that  little  Harum- 
Scarum  to  a  real  boardin'-school.  Florence  is 
on  pins  to  go,  too." 


144  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  That  Mitchell  girl  is  a-goin".  Her  folks  is 
goin'  to  Europe,  so  I  have  heard.  You  know  it's 
fashionable  now  for  parsons  to  take  trips  to 
Europe.  Great  note,  I  think,  for  folks  to  go 
gadding  around  the  world  and  a  chit  of  a  girl  like 
that  let  loose  in  a  boarding-school.  They  git  up 
to  awful  sights  of  mischief,  when  they're  left  like 
that.  Expect  something  will  come  of  it  sooner 
or  later." 

"  Deacon  and  Mis'  Argyle  set  great  store  by 
that  black-eyed  young  'un  of  theirn.  I'd  take 
some  of  the  spunk  out  of  her,  if  I  had  a  day's 
dealin's  with  her.  The  little  minx  hain't  treated 
me  decent  sence  the  time  it  got  out  and  noised 
around  that  she  was  adopted.  Dunno's  it's 
my  fault,  that  she  don't  know  who  she  b'longs 
to." 

"  Well,  I  must  be  goin'.  Do  you  think  you'll 
be  lettin'  Florence  go  to  boardin'-school,  Mis' 
Pritchard  ?  She's  as  likely  a  girl  as  either  of 
them." 

"  Well,  I  dunno,  hardly,"  said  Mrs.  Pritchard, 
as  she  dried  her  hands  on  the  roller  towel,  I  guess 
the  schoolin'  she'll  get  here  '11  be  about  all  we 
can  afford  to  give  her.  There  ain't  no  use  in 
giving  her  too  hifalutin'  notions." 


TWO  SURPRISES.  145 

"  We  ain't  goin'  to  have  no  time,  nor  invita- 
tions, nor  nothin',  Mis'  Pritchard  ;  so  you  needn't 
feel  slighted,"  called  back  Sabra,  as  she  hurried 
off  towards  home. 


146  STORM-SWEPT. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   STOLEN   RIDE. 

1  Broken  the  golden  cord  ;  severed  the  silken  tie  ; 
Never  again  will  the  old  days  come." 

RARE  Indian-summer  day  was  ended. 
The  evening  shadows  had  fallen,  and 
night  crept  on.  A  full  moon  sailed 
in  a  cloudless  sky,  while  earth-dwellers 
breathed  an  atmosphere  as  balmy  as  that  of  the 
far  away  June-time.  Such  days  always  will  steal 
in  just  before  the  cold  and  frost  of  winter  begin 
their  reign  ;  golden  chalices  of  promise,  bearing 
within  them  the  scent  of  the  roses  and  fresh- 
mown  hay,  such  as  will  come  again  when  summer 
returns. 

In  a  select  portion  of  the  staid  old  City  of  Elms, 
at  a  point  where  its  level,  cleanly-swept  streets 
bordered  by  towering  elms  lay  at  right  angles, 
and  the  jingle  of  bells  on  two  horse-car  lines  can 
be  heard  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  and  as  far  into 
the  night  as  the  old  Puritan  city  allows  noisy 


THE  STOLEN  RIDE.  147 


travel  and  traffic  to  hold  sway,  stands  Mrs.  Catlin's 
seminary.  A  -modest-looking  building,  flat-roofed, 
and  with  a  wide  and  comfortable  veranda  across 
the  front  of  the  house,  its  supports  well  garlanded 
with  fragrant  honeysuckle.  The  blossoms  are 
now  well-nigh  gone,  a  few  honeycups  here  and 
there  hiding  among  the  black-berried  vines,  almost 
apologizing  for  being  out  so  late  in  the  autumn. 
One  of  the  front  windows  over  the  veranda  is 
partly  open.  Behind  the  curtain  sits  some  one 
slowly  rocking.  Some  one  comes  along  the  brick- 
paved  street.  The  step-sounds  cease,  but  the 
brown  grass  bends  under  a  young  man's  footsteps. 
He  pauses  an  instant  beneath  the  large  elm  which 
throws  a  weird  shadow  in  the  light  of  the  moon. 
"  Nothing  venture,  nothing  have,"  he  mutters, 
then  with  an  agility  which  bespeaks  gymnasium 
practice,  he  is  among  the  lower  branches  of  the 
tree  !  Hark  !  what  means  that  owlish  tu-whoo  ? 
It  comes  from  the  great  elm.  Slowly  the  curtain 
is  drawn  back,  the  blind  opens  and  a  white  ball  is 
thrown  over  into  the  tree.  It  is  thrown  back  into 
the  room,  and  then  the  telegraph  line  is  com- 
pleted. 

If  we  watch  closely  we  shall  see  by  the  moon- 
light a  silver  spot  moving  slowly  from  the  tree  to 


148  STORM-SWEPT. 


the  window  where  the  blind  stands  just  ajar. 
The  white  spot  disappears  between  the  slats  and 
in  a  moment  a  handkerchief  is  tied  on  the  blind. 
The  message  has  been  received  and  answered,  and 
the  occupant  of  the  tree  cautiously  descends.  It 
was  a  daring  feat  in  the  moonlight,  but  then,  one 
will  risk  much  for  some  cherished  plan's  sake,  and 
no  accounting  for  the  daring  of  a  sophomore.  It 
was  a  pleasantly  furnished  apartment,  half  sitting- 
room,  half  bed-chamber.  Near  a  small  crimson- 
covered  table  sat  a  dark-haired  girl  poring  over 
the  dry  pages  of  a  geometry.  The  light  from  the 
student  lamp  fell  on  the  book,  her  face  being  in 
the  shadow.  The  fingers  of  one  hand  toyed  a 
little  nervously  with  the  corners  of  the  leaves  as 
the  owner  knitted  her  brow,  apparently  in  deep 
study.  The  other  hand  was  almost  buried  in  the 
mass  of  black  ringlets  that  clustered  around  the 
sweet  girlish  face.  Before  the  dressing-case  stood 
another  form,  that  of  a  fair-haired  girl,  by  some 
two  or  more  years  the  senior  of  the  twain.  A 
flush  of  excitement  reddened  the  plump  cheeks 
as  she  strove  to  smoothly  coil  the  wealth  of 
blonde  hair,  which,  as  if  bewitched,  almost  defied 
her  efforts.  She  accomplished  the  feat,  and  stood 
fluffing  out  the  becoming  bang,  then  said,  in  a 


THE  STOLEN  RIDE.  149 


half-doubting  tone,  "  So,  Nell,  I  suppose  you  still 
think  I'm  awful."  No  answer  came  to  this  in- 
quiry. In  another  moment  the  blonde  was  set- 
tling upon  her  head  a  jaunty  cap,  then  whirling 
round,  stood  for  an  instant  as  she  buttoned  the 
snugly  fitting  jacket. 

"  Look  up,  Nell,  I  want  to  see  your  eyes,  I  can 
tell  by  them  whether  you  are  still  displeased." 

The  dark  eyes  still  rested  on  the  book,  but  a 
voice  sweetly  grave,  answered,  "  I  should  certainly 
not  go,  Olga,  if  I  were  you.  There  may  be  no 
harm  in  the  going,  only  that  it  is  against  the  rules 
of  the  school ;  but  it  makes  me  feel  badly  to  see 
you  so  frequently  in  the  company  of  Grace  Per- 
kins. Then  it  would  make  me  despise  myself  to 
go  sneaking  off  with  the  Damocles  sword  of  Mrs. 
Catlin's  wrath  hanging  over  my  head.  However, 
you  are  older  than  I,  and  of  course  have  the  privi- 
lege of  using  your  own  judgment,  which  looks  to 
me  just  now  as  though  it  were  about  to  play  you 
false." 

"  Listen,  shades  of  Columbus  !  Why,  Nell 
Argyle,  Grace  is  the  jolliest  girl  in  the  school.  I 
wish  you  were  going  too,  and  then  you'd  be  in 
love  with  her  yourself.  Now  if  I  were  a  man  — 
but  alas,  I  am  not, — am  I  shocking  you  utterly. 


150  STORM-SWEPT. 


dear?"  A  ripple  of  silvery  laughter  as  Nellie 
shook  her  head. 

"  Olga,  you  ape  that  girl  even  to  her  language." 

"  But  you  see,  Grace  says  so  many  really  'cute 
things  that  they  are  actually  catching,  as  it 
were." 

Nellie  raised  her  eyebrows,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Of  course  Grace's  mother  takes  student  room- 
ers so  she  gets  all  the  latest  from  the  college,  but 
I  verily  believe  the  majority  of  them  go  there  be- 
cause Grace  is  so"  jolly." 

The  little  French  clock  with  its  Moscow  chime 
struck  the  half  hour. 

"  Great  Scott !  is  that  half-past  eight  ?  I  must 
skip.  Grace  will  be  tired  of  waiting,  and  it  would 
be  horridly  mean  to  be  left." 

"When  will  you  be  back,  Olga?" 

"  Oh,  by  ten,  surely.  You'll  come  down  and 
let  me  in,  won't  you  ? — there's  a  dear.  I'm  going 
out  by  the  west  door  now.  Madame  is  entertain- 
ing company  in  the  parlor,  and  Mistress  Mary, 
quite  contrary,  is  taking  her  after-tea  constitu- 
tional in  the  library  ;  so  I'll  get  out  as  slick  as  a 
whistle."  She  tossed  a  kiss  to  Nellie,  and  tripped 
silently  down  the  stairs. 

Drop,  drop,  drop,  went  the  tears  on  the  open 


THE  STOLEN  RIDE.  151 

page.     Then  down  went  the  curly  head,  and  the 
owner  indulged  in  a  good  hard  cry. 

"Oh,  Olga  !  Olga  !  "  she  sobbed;  "  you  were 
my  idol,  but  you  are  drifting  away  from  me,  you 
are  being  drawn  into  the  whirlpool  by  that  siren. 
We  loved  each  other  like  sisters  till  that  girl  came 
between  us ;  and  she  is  winning  you  away  from 
me ;  you,  the  only  girl-friend  I  ever  had.  You 
are  light-hearted  and  care-free,  with  an  own  father 
and  mother,  while  I  am  only  adopted.  True, 
Mother  and  Father  Argyle  are  good  and  kind  to 
me,  but  my  heart  reaches  out  into  the  dark  shut- 
away  past  after  my  own  mother.  My  mother 
who  cradled  me  in  her  arms,  and  who  loved  me 
because  I  was  her  own  flesh  and  blood.  It  is 
kindred — those  in  whose  veins  flows  blood  akin 
to  mine,  it  is  they  whom  I  long  to  see  and  know. 
Oh,  will  the  future  ever  bring  to  me  any  one  that 
is  in  reality  an  own  blood  relation  !  It  is  so  hard 
to  feel  that  one  is  entirely  alone,  not  a  soul  in  the 
universe,  as  far  as  I  know,  who  really  and  truly 
belongs  to  me.  And  I  love  Olga  so  dearly,  and 
ever  since  that  Thanksgiving  blizzard  we  have 
been  like  sisters ;  and  now  to  go  on  feeling  that 
undeserving  girl  is  coming  between  us, — I  cannot 
bear  it ;  and  the  tears  drowned  the  words  as  the 


152  STORM-SWEPT. 


poor  child  wept  bitterly.  Olga  had  reached  the 
sidewalk  without  encountering  any  one.  She 
walked  swiftly  in  the  direction  of  the  college,  and 
soon  reached  Mrs.  Perkins'  door.  Grace  met 
her  with  a  gushing  greeting.  "  We  were  so 
afraid  you  couldn't  come,  my  dear.  The  boys  are 
out  on  the  veranda  enjoying  a  cigar.  I  won't  ask 
you  to  take  off  your  things,  and  I'll  have  mine  on 
in  a  jiffy.  Isn't  it  a  glorious  night  ?  " 

They  stepped  out  on  to  the  veranda,  and  were 
at  once  joined  by  two  young  men. 

"  Mr.  Atherton  ;  Mr.  Delamere  ;  Miss  Mitchell." 
Olga  was  thunderstruck.  Grace's  note  had  said 
that  Leon  Thorpe  was  to  accompany  them.  She 
half-way  stopped  as  the  introduction  was  given, 
while  Grace  hurriedly  whispered,  "  Don't  say  a 
word, — Leon  couldn't  come ;  backed  out  at  the 
last  minute;  so  Fred  had  to  bring  some  one. 
You've  met  Clyde  Delamere  at  the  receptions,  so 
there  isn't  any  harm.  He's  lovely  company,"  and 
Olga,  without  further  remonstrance,  though  her 
heart  misgave  her,  allowed  herself  to  be  helped 
into  the  carriage  which  was  in  waiting.  The 
whip  snapped,  and  they  were  all  off  for  a  moon- 
light drive.  And  Leon,  sitting  with  Ralph,  poring 
over  the  morrow's  lesson,  had  no  thought  but 


THE  STOLEN  RIDE.  1 5 3 

that  Olga  was  engaged  in  the  same  occupa- 
tion. 

It  was  a  perfect  night, — one  left  over  from  late 
summer, — clear  and  mild.  The  full  moon  shone 
wierdly,  beautifully,  through  the  fine  meshes  of 
net-work  made  by  the  leafless  elm  branches. 
Back  from  the  substantial  looking  fences  stood 
the  stately  residences  of  New  Haven's  aristocracy. 
Doric  pillars  and  Ionic  carvings,  statuary,  and 
fountains  of  antique  design  whispering  through 
the  stillness,  of  the  scholarly  residents,  and  sub- 
stantial foundations  of  the  storied  city  of  Elms. 
How  Olga  would  have  enjoyed  it  all  had  Leon 
only  been  there.  On  they  rode,  out  where  the 
curving  river  flashed  back  the  silver  of  the  moon- 
beams ;  on  toward  the  sentinel  rock  over-looking 
the  city,  and  the  foam-capped  waves  in  the 
harbor,  where,  at  their  rrtoorings,  floated  ships 
from  many  foreign  ports. 

"Goodness!  is  this  a  Quaker  meeting?"  said 
Grace,  breaking  the  unbearable  silence. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  beauties  of  the  night," 
said  Olga. 

"  Then  you  enjoy  moonlight  rides,  Miss 
Mitchell  ? "  It  was  Clyde  Delamere  who 
spoke. 


154  STORM-SWEPT. 

"  Yes,  under  some  circumstances,"  was  her  in- 
definite reply. 

"  Are  they  not  propitious  upon  this  particular 
occasion  ?  " 

"  Not  as  much  so  as  I  might  desire,"  came  the 
truthful  answer. 

"  Ah,  here  was  something  out  of  the  ordinary. 
A  girl  who  dared  almost  tell  you  she  preferred 
another's  company  to  yours.  Refreshing,  to  say 
the  least,"  so  Delamere's  thoughts  ran  on. 

"  Might  I  ask  what  more  is  necessary  to  com- 
plete your  happiness?  " 

"  The  company  of  some  one  with  whom  I  am  so 
well  acquainted  that  I  may  be  privileged  to  re- 
main silent,  and  yet  not  be  considered  rude.  I 
do  not  care  to  talk  much  on  such  a  night  as  this. 
So  much  beauty  fills  me  with  a  solemn  fullness 
which  makes  idle  conversation  detestably  com- 
monplace." 

"  A  queer  girl,"  thought  Clyde  Delamere. 

"  Fiddlesticks,"  said  Grace,  and  Fred  Atherton 
puckered  up  his  lips  and  gave  a  prolonged  whistle. 
"  Rats  and  nonsense,"  he  confided  to  Grace ;  but 
Clyde  had  caught  the  contagion  and  quietly 
allowed  Olga  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  the  night. 
And  by  that  consideration  he  rose  fifty  per  cent 


THE  STOLEN  RIDE. 


in  the  estimation  of  Olga  Mitchell.  Battell  Chapel 
chimes  had  rung  the  half  after  ten  when  Olga 
alighted  at  the  corner,  and  lightly  sped  toward 
the  little  brown  gate.  With  her  heart  in  her 
mouth  Olga  stood  at  the  west  door  awaiting  the 
coming  of  Nellie.  In  a  moment  she  heard  the 
key  turn  in  the  lock,  without  a  word  she  passed 
in  and  quietly  up  the  stairs.  Nellie  was  there 
almost  as  soon  as  she  was.  No  remarks  were 
ventured  upon  either  side,  but  both  began  pre- 
paring to  retire.  "  Why  don't  you  ask  me  if  I 
had  a  good  time,  Nell  ?  "  finally  came  in  a  quiet 
whisper  as  she  bent,  unbuttoning  her  shoes. 

"  Because  I  judge  from  your  looks  that  it  was 
hardly  worth  the  daring." 

"  You're  about  right.  Grace  played  me  a  mean 
trick." 

"  No  more  than  I  expected." 

"  Now,  for  pity's  sake  don't  begin  to  preach, 
don't.  It's  enough  to  have  this  pinch  in  my  side." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  every  time  I  think  what  a  goose  I  was 
to  be  led  by  her,  there  is  a  little  pain  in  my  side 
just  as  if  my  breath  stopped  for  a  few  seconds. 
It  is  a  dreadful  disagreeable  feeling  and  it  makes 
me  feel  mean  from  head  to  foot." 


156  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  What  has  Grace  done  to  make  you  so  pro- 
voked, pray  tell  ?  " 

"  Why,  when  I  got  to  her  house,  instead  of 
Leon  being  there  as  I  expected,  and  as  she  said 
in  her  note,  who  was  it  but  Clyde  Delamere;  you 
know,  that  handsome  black  mustached  fellow  who 
always  comes  to  the  receptions.  Of  course  I'd 
got  there,  and  there  was  Grace  and  the  boys  and 
the  carriage,  and  the  night  was  perfect,  and  like 
a  goose  I  went,  when  I  ought  to  have  turned 
right  around  and  come  straight  back  home.  I 
didn't  begin  to  enjoy  myself;  though  the  even- 
ing was  perfect,  and  to  cap  the  climax  what  do 
you  think  happened.  That  handsome  puppy 
offered  to  kiss  me,  yes — he  actually  did  offer  to. 
This  is  how  it  was.  We  were  almost  at  the 
corner  coming  home,  and  he  slid  his  arm  along 
the  back  of  the  seat  and  brought  his  face  too 
near  mine  for  comfort.  Grace  and  Fred  were 
having  a  delightfully  confidential  time  on  the 
front  seat,  and  I  don't  suppose  they  would  have 
been  diverted  by  much  short  of  a  smashup. 
Well,  his  mustache  actually  brushed  against  my 
cheek,  and  in  a  tone  I  shall  never  forget,  he 
actually  said,  '  What  would  you  say  if  I  should 
kiss  you  ?  '  I  actually  thought  I  should  faint 


THE  S TOLEN  RIDE.  \  5  7 

away,  but  I  sat  up  as  straight  as  possible,  and 
said  in  the  haughtiest  tone  I  could  command, 
'  You  would  not  do  it,  you  are  too  much  of  a 
gentleman.'  " 

"  I  am,"  he  said,  in  such  a  manly  tone  that  my 
respect  for  him  went  up  ten  per  cent,  but  I  tell 
you,  I'm  glad  I'm  home ;  and  when  I  go  skylark- 
ing again  with  Grace  Perkins  she'll  know  it." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  preach,  dear ;  for  I  think 
you've  had  your  lesson,  but  really  I'm  not  in  the 
least  surprised.  I  haven't  a  particle  of  faith  in 
Grace.  In  all  probability  he  took  you  for  her 
stamp,  and  I  am  under  the  impression  that  her 
lips  are  a  common  on  which  every  donkey  in 
college  has  the  privilege  of  browsing.  I  intend 
to  keep  my  lips  with  the  bloom  on  them." 

"  Why,  Nell,  you  talk  like  a  woman  instead  of 
a  girl.  There  must  be  a  mistake  in  your  age." 

"  No,  I  think  not,  for  the  crow's  feet  haven't  be- 
gun to  appear  yet.  I  hope  no  harm  will  come  of 
this  escapade,  but  you'll  have  to  "be  awfully  careful. 
Do  you  think  you  shall  continue  his  acquaintance  ? 
I'm  afraid  you'll  be  sorry  if  you  do." 

"  I  suppose  that  all  depends.  I  like  him  for 
some  things,  and  for  some  I  don't." 

Then    for    a    moment  two  white-robed  forms 


158  STORM-SWEPT. 

knelt  beside  the  couch,  then  a  good-night  kiss, 
and  the  children  slept.  How  little  they  could  know 
of  the  future  !  Not  even  in  dreams  were  either 
troubled,  and  yet  this  night  had  been  forged  a 
link  as  strong  as  any  in  either  of  their  life-chains. 
Ah,  how  little  we  know !  and  yet  had  we  known 
— would  we  have  done  differently  ?  We  are  all 
self-willed,  headstrong,  at  times ;  and  perhaps  it 
is  all  in  the  pattern.  The  knots  show  only  on 
the  wrong  side;  and  there  are  cross  stitches  and 
snarls,  and  broken  ends  and  barren  places ;  yet 
on  the  right  side  is  a  beautiful  whole.  Then  we 
must  not  say,  "  I  would  have  done  thus  or  so," 
for  we  do  not  know.  Then  again  there  are  the 
invisible  lines, — those  threads  which  are  drawn  by 
other  people ;  and  on  account  of  these,  to  make 
our  own  pattern  perfect,  we  must  go  in  and  out 
and  about  and  around,  that  the  tangles  may  al- 
ways come  on  the  wrong  side. 


CONFIDENCES. 


'59 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CONFIDENCES. 

"  Memories  !    fold  them  up, 

Lay  them  sacredly  by  ; 
What  avails  it  to  dream  of  the  past, 
The  future  for  you  and  I." 

FEW    evenings  after  the  stolen  ride, 
Clyde  Delamere  went  to  Leon's  room 
in  search  of  a  Greek  Lexicon  belong- 
ing to  the  college  library. 
"I  say,  Thorpe,  do  you  know  Olga  Mitchell," 
came  the  query  from  the  depths  of  the  ponderous 
volume. 

"  Why  ?  "  came  the  Yankee  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  I  believe  she  came  from  your  place,  did  she 
not?" 

"  I  have  an  acquaintance  with  the  young  lady 
in  question.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  only  she  was  in  company  with 
me  the  other  evening." 


160  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  Indeed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  say,  Thorpe,  did  you  ever  kiss  her?  " 

"  What  impertinence  !  " 

"  Impertinence  be  hanged.  I  attempted  it  that 
evening." 

"  How  dare  you  !  "  and  anger  was  visible  in  both 
tone  and  looks. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  get  mad  about  it.  She  re- 
sented it  of  course.  I  say,  Thorpe,  she's  an 
angel.  I'd  like  a  further  acquaintance  with 
her." 

"  And  you've  come  to  me  confessing,  hoping  I 
shall  help  you  out  ?  " 

"  Just  so  !  I  sent  her  some  flowers  the  next 
morning,  but  she  returned  them  without  a 
word." 

Leon  smiled. 

"  I'd  like  to  become  better  acquainted  with 
her.  She  seems  much  more  sensible  than  ordi- 
nary girls." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  find  that  out  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Grace  Perkins  fixed  that  up  for  me.  She 
knew  I  wanted  to  meet  her,  so  she  made  out  that 
you  would  be  one  of  the  party,  and  instead  it  was 
I — see?  However,  the  little  game  wasn't  a  suc- 
cess. I  tried  to  treat  her  as  I  do  the  other  girls, 


CONFIDENCES.  161 


and  it  didn't  work,  you  see.  Fix  it  up  for  me  if 
you  can,  Thorpe  ;  and  I'll  be  your  friend  ever 
after.  I'm  deuced  sorry  I  offended  her,  but  con- 
found it,  I  didn't  think  she'd  care." 

Leon's  reply  was  a  question.  "  Have  you  told 
her  so  ?  " 

"  No,  hang  it,  of  course  not." 

"  I  should." 

"  Would  you,  really  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  should." 

"  How  do  you  suppose  she  would  take  it  ?  " 

"  Like  the  lady  that  she  is." 

"By  George,  I'll  do  it.     Thank  you,  Thorpe." 

"  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  don't  believe  he's  interested 
there  himself,"  Clyde  mused  as  he  hurried  back 
through  the  rain  to  his  room  in  South  Middle. 
He  was  not  a  bad  young  man,  only  one  of 
those  foolish,  jolly  fellows  whom  all  the  dash- 
ing girls  had  made  a  great  deal,  of,  until  his 
organ  of  self-esteem  had  been  considerably  en- 
larged. 

By  a  singular  coincidence,  on  the  evening  in 
question,  Olga  and  Nellie  sat  by  the  register  in 
their  cosy  room  while  the  rain  drearily  beat  against 
the  side  of  the  house,  and  fitful  gusts  sent  the 
great  elm's  branches  scratching  against  the  clap- 


162  STORM-SWEPT. 

boards.  The  light  was  well  shaded,  and  the  girls 
had  settled  themselves  for  a  quiet  chat ;  Nellie 
seated  in  a  wonderfully  comfortable  easy  rocker, 
her  hands  clasped  over  her  dark  unruly  curls  ; 
while  Olga  half  reclined  on  an  Oriental  divan. 

"  Ugh,  such  a  moaning  screeching  wind  is 
enough  to  give  one  the  creeps.  I  wouldn't  like  to 
be  crossing  the  ocean  on  a  night  like  this."  And 
Olga  involuntarily  drew  about  her  shoulders  a 
dainty  soft-knit  afghan. 

"  I'd  love  to  be  sitting  by  the  fireplace  in  the 
old  kitchen,  with  mother  knitting,  and  father 
reading  the  news  from  the  Sentinel."  A  long 
sigh  followed  this  mournfully  delivered  speech. 
They  were  verging  on  homesickness. 

Why  is  it  that  on  such  a  night  legions  of  old 
home-memories  will  keep  marching  through  one's 
brain,  inviting  to  combat  the  forces  of  the  will 
which  have  kept  in  submission  these  sacred  and 
loved  associations?  Ah,  human  nature  is  a 
strange  and  mighty  sovereign  who  strives  for 
mastery  in  the  hearts  of  all  earth-dwellers  ! 

Then  in  a  sadly  subdued  tone  came  the  thought 
which  at  times  took  a  strange  hold  upon  light- 
hearted,  sunny-tempered  Olga.  "  Honestly  and 
truly,  Nell,  I  sometimes  wonder  if  I  am  who  I  am. 


CONFIDENCES.  163 


Do  you  know,  for  years  and  years  I  have  imagined 
I  was  adopted,  and  I  have  actually  asked  mother  if 
it  was  so  ;  but  she  says  I  am  her  own,  and  that 
God  gave  me  to  her  ;  so  I  don't  see  but  that  it 
must  be  only  an  hallucination,  and  I  try  so  hard  not 
to  think  about  it,  but  it  will  keep  coming  up  in 
my  mind." 

"  What  a  strange  thought !  How  came  you  ever 
to  imagine  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"Oh,  for  ever  since  I  can  remember  I  have  over 
and  over  again  dreamed  of  a  man's  face.  The 
dearest,  kindest,  and  most  tender  face  you  could 
possibly  imagine.  Such  beautiful  dark  eyes,  very 
much  like  yours,  Nell  ;  and  now  it's  strange  I 
never  thought  of  it  before,  they  are  very  similar 
in  every  way.  But  this  face  is  such  a  pleasant 
and  kind  face  for  a  man,  and  truly,  Nell,  some- 
times I  dream  he  kisses  me,  and  I  awake  at  once 
to  find  that  it  is  only  a  dream." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  the  face  of  your  future  husband,'' 
said  Nell,  with  a  half  sad  smile.  Olga's  remark 
had  stirred  up  all  the  old  bitter  feelings  over 
which  she  had  had  many  hard  struggles. 

"  Oh,  no,  that  couldn't  be,  for  this  seems  so 
much  older  than  I  am,  why,  old  enough,  surely, 
to  be  my  father.  By  the  way,  I  had  a  letter  from 


164  STORM  SWEPT. 


mother  this  afternoon.  She  is  coming  home  in 
June,  and  in  October  she  is  going  to  take  me  to 
Berlin,  for  a  year  or  so  of  music  :  and  I  suppose 
that  will  finish  my  schooling.  If  I  get  a  chance, 
I  shall  take  a  dip  into  painting,  for  I  believe  I 
care  more  for  art  than  music.  If  I  could  only 
paint  that  face  as  I  can  see  it,  perhaps  it  wouldn't 
haunt  me  as  it  does." 

"  Where  is  your  mother  now  ?  " 

"  In  Glasgow.  Father  had  business  there,  he 
always  has  when  they  go  abroad.  I  verily  believe 
he  would  like  to  live  there.  Wouldn't  it  be 
strange  if  it  should  come  to  pass  that  you  and  I 
should  live  on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,  Olga,  I  shouldn't  like  to  think 
you  were  going  away  off  to  live  where  I  should 
never  see  you  again." 

"  Oh  that  couldn't  be,  you  must  come  to  see 
me  then,  and  perhaps  I  shall  marry  you  off  to  a 
descendant  of  one  of  those  Scotch  barons  that 
Deacon  Argyle  tells  about.  I  don't  know,  though, 
as  father  could  exist  forever  outside  of  New  York 
City.  I've  often  wondered  how  he  came  to  stay 
in  Westbridge  as  long  as  he  did  ;  only  of  course 
I  know  it  was  for  his  health.  Nevermind,  dearie, 
we've  had  some  lovely  times  together,  and  its  a 


CONFIDENCES.  165 


long  time  to  next  October  ;  but  when  I  do  get 
over  there  I'll  write  to  you  every  week  for  sure, 
and  you  must  write  to  me.  I  want  to  make  a  con- 
fession, Nell — do  you  think  Leon  cares  very  much 
about  me  ?" 

"  Is  that  your  confession  ?" 

"  Of  course  not  ;  but,  truly,  I  imagine  he 
doesn't,  and  I  am  actually  beginning  to  observe  a 
number  of  faults  in  him.  I  dare  say  he  sees  faults 
in  me,  too.  He's  a  splendid  fellow  and  all  that  ; 
but  I  think  there  are  lots  of  girls  he  might  like 
better  than  me.  We  are  both  too  young  to  be 
settling  such  questions,  I  think,  don't  you?" 

Nellie's  mind  reverted  to  the  accident  on  the 
pond,  and  to  several  other  incidents  when  Olga's 
first  thought  was  of  Leon  ;  but  time  works 
change. 

"  I  overheard  a  similar  question  discussed  one 
day.  The  gist  of  the  matter  was  this.  The  girl 
one  would  care  for  at  seventeen. would  be  out  of 
the  question  at  twenty  ;  and  the  one  who  was 
chosen  at  twenty  would  be  looked  upon  as  not  at 
all  suitable  at  twenty-five ;  but  that  at  the  latter 
age  one  might  rest  assured  they  were  making  a 
proper  choice." 

"  That    must  be  why   so  many  unhappy  mar- 


i66  STORM-SWEPT. 


riages  are  made.  The  papers  are  full  of  accounts 
of  girls  and  boys  getting  married.  I  cannot  for 
the  life  of  me  see  why  girls  can  think  of  such 
things." 

"  There  is  certainly  nothing  manly  or  womanly 
in  going  off  as  if  they  were  ashamed  to  have  a 
decently  conducted  wedding — but  we  have 
wandered  off  to  nonsense,  for  us." 

"  Well,  I  have  no  more  idea  of  getting  married 
than  I  have  of  taking  a  journey  to  the  moon." 

"  It  always  seemed  to  me  that  there  must  be  a 
sort  of  telegraphic  system  between  the  two  who 
should  be  joined  for  life,  and  that  each  should 
know  for  a  fact  that  he  or  she  belongs  to  the 
other.  I  think  it  is  a  lovely  thought  that  matches 
are  made  in  heaven,  and  that  if  one  truly  interprets 
the  telegrams,  that  the  proper  marriages  will  be 
made." 

"  Answer  me  truly,  Nell,  don't  you  think  it 
foolish  for  girls  of  sixteen  or  under  to  become 
engaged  ? " 

"  I  certainly  do,  Olga,  and  I  would  say  eighteen 
or  younger,  and  perhaps  twenty.  Girls  do  not 
know  what  their  possibilities  are  for  doing  good 
in  the  world,  or  for  accomplishing  anything  along 
given  paths,  until  after  they  are  of  age.  How  do 


CONFIDENCES.  167 


you  or  I  know  but  that  God  has  meant  us  for  in- 
struments in  His  hands  to  do  some  special  work, 
which  only  you  or  I  may  do  ;  and  is  it  right  for  us 
to  so  bind  ourselves,  while  we  are  yet  children,  as 
to  interfere  with  something  which  later  on  we 
must  come  to  know  should  have  been  our  life- 
work?" 

"  How  can  you  ever  think  such  things  out, 
Nell?  I  believe  you  are  a  born  genius  ;  and  don't 
for  pity's  sake  go  and  spoil  your  future  brilliant 
career  by  any  foolish  acts." 

"  You  are  inclined  to  jest,  but,  have  I  started 
oh  any  sidetrack  to  your  knowledge?  " 

"  No,  Nell,  nor  do  I  think  there  is  any  danger 
of  it.  You  are  too  strong-minded,  strong-willed, 
or  whatever  you  choose  to  call  it.  It  is  only  the 
weak  ones,  like  poor  me,  who  go  jolting  along 
over  the  rough  places.  There  goes  the  bell ! 
Lights  out  in  two  minutes.  We  must  hurry  or 
Mistress  Prim  will  be  on  hand."  • 

In  another  half  hour  quiet  reigned  in  the  place 
of  confidences,  and  Olga  and  Nellie  slept. 


1 68  S  TORM-S  WEPT. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   PICNIC   AT   ECHO   LAKE. 

"  A  quiet  lake  like  a  picture  fair, 

Lies  at  the  foot  of  the  purple  hills  ; 

Where  the  dreamy  sunshine  lingers  long, 

And  softly  gleams  on  the  silver  rills." 

HE  birds  were  up  betimes  twittering 
among  the  branches  on  one  particular 
morning  in  early  summer.  Over  the 
hills  the  sun  was  rising  into  a  clear 
blue  sky,  while  earth  was  all  a-sparkle  with  glisten- 
ing dew.  As  Nellie  opened  her  window  she  was 
sprinkled  with  drops  from  the  fragrant  honey- 
suckle vines  which  clambered  in  a  wild  tangle  up 
from  the  porch  below.  The  clock  hands  pointed 
to  the  hour  of  four,  but  Nellie's  eyes  were  wide 
open,  and  sparkling  as  brightly  as  the  beautiful 
landscape  that  lay  before  her,  rising  in  ridges  and 
settling  in  hollows.  Through  the  undulating 
meadow-land  wound  Mile  Brook,  and  over  at  the 
left  was  a  piece  of  chestnut  woods,  while  to  the 


THE  PICK1C  AT  ECHO  LAKE.  169 

right  towered  the  church  spire  white  and  glisten- 
ing against  the  bright  fresh  green  of  the  fields 
and  hills  beyond.  The  robins  sang  and  swayed 
in  the  branches  of  the  old  apple  tree  that  stood 
farther  along  by  the  back  door,  and  Nellie's  heart 
was  in  full  tune  with  the  large  golden-breasted 
fellow  who  saucily  sat  on  a  low  branch  and  sang 
so  lustily. 

But  as  she  descended  to  the  herb-scented 
kitchen,  a  strange  feeling  came  over  her  for  an 
instant,  almost  as  though  the  shadow  of  a  passing 
bird  had  fallen  upon  her ;  so  swiftly  fleeting  that 
she  wondered  if  a  bird  had  really  flown  by,  then 
over  her  spirits  settled  a  phantom-like  presentiment 
that  there  was  near  at  hand,  lurking  somewhere 
in  the  moments  of  the  day,  an  undefinable  some- 
thing which  would  turn  over  a  leaf  in  her  life- 
story.  It  could  not  be  because  the  girls  were  not 
coming,  for  had  not  her  invitation  been  accepted, 
and  was  not  this  the  morning  when  father  Argyle 
was  to  meet  them  at  the  early  train  ?  She  would 
shake  off  the  uncanny  feeling,  and  go  about  her 
duties  with  a  heart  as  light  as  ever.  The  day's 
work  was  well  on  the  way  before  Deacon  Argyle 
started  for  the  depot  to  meet  the  7:55  train.  In 
twenty  minutes  more  the  lunch-baskets  stood  on 


170  STORM-SWEPT. 


the  porch,  and  Nellie  waited  at  the  gate,  moment- 
arily expecting  to  see  her  father  returning. 

Almost  before  she  was  aware  the  girls  were 
devouring  her  with  kisses,  while  her  fresh  cambric 
gown  received  many  wrinkles  from  sundry 
enthusiastic  hugs,  interspersed  with  expressions 
of  admiration  for  Nellie's  thoughtfulness. 

"  Just  think  of  it,"  said  Olga,  "  she's  not  only 
taken  pity  on  us  poor  mortals  destined  to  spend 
our  summer  vacation  in  that  stuffy  old  seminary, 
and  invited  us  to  spend  the  day,  but  as  many  as 
can  may  stay  a  week." 

Mrs.  Argyle  and  Nellie  served  them  with  a  light 
lunch,  and  then  the  deacon  drove  up  with  his 
lumber-box  filled  with  straw,  over  which  the  girls 
spread  shawls  ;  then  all  clambered  in  and  started 
off  for  a  straw-ride.  The  girls  were  ecstatic  in 
their  exclamations,  and  well  they  might  be.  The 
City  of  Elms  is  a  beautiful  place  ;  but  beyond  it 
among  the  green  ridges  of  hills  which  lie  to  the 
north  and  east,  and  westward,  are  scenes  and 
homelike  places,  which  neither  artist's  pencil  nor 
poet's  pen,  could  picture  in  their  full  loveliness. 
Canopies  of  branches  interlaced  above  the  dusty 
roadway,  fields  of  grain  waving  yellow  and  billowy 
under  the  breath  of  passing  breezes ;  hills  and 


THE  PICNIC  A  T  ECHO  LAKE.  1 7 1 

hollows  overgrown  with  pink  clover,  white  daisies, 
and  yellow  butter-cups ;  while  the  wild  black- 
berry vines  creep  in  a  tangle  about  their  growing 
places. 

There  is  a  break  in  a  denseness  of  the  woodland, 
a  sound  as  of  tinkling  bells,  then  a  glimmer  of 
silver,  and  plashing  of  a  shimmering  waterfall, 
but  they  do  not  pause  there.  Exclamations  of 
surprise  and  pleasure  continue. 

"  Why,  Nellie,  why  didn't  you  tell  us  you  lived 
in  fairyland  ?  We  should  have  been  here  long 
ago  if  we  had  only  known."  "  No  wonder  she 
had  things  about  as  she  wanted  them  at  school, 
for  she  surely  must  have  them  here."  "  Say,  Nell, 
I'll  exchange  homes  with  you  if  you'll  say  the 
word :  "  and  thus  with  pleasant  bantering  they 
reached  the  borders  of  Echo  Lake.  Its  smooth 
waters  gleamed  like  silver,  and  white  and  golden 
lilies  floated  on  its  bosom.  M'onarchs  of  the 
forest  grew  near  its  margin,  and  brakes  and  ferns 
bent  over  it.  Here  and  there  gleamed  yellow 
dodder,  and  crimson  cardinal  flowers,  beautiful 
things  of  a  few  days ;  while  the  moss-grown 
stones  told  of  years  of  restfulness  and  solitude. 
'Mid  scenes  like  these  Nellie  had  been  reared  ; 
and  here  she  brought  her  girl-friends  to  spend  a 


172  STORM-SWEPT. 

few  hours  near  to  the  heart  of  nature  whom  she 
loved. 

Had  you  asked  her  which  of  all  the  various 
forms  of  nature  was  most  lovely,  she  could  not  have 
told  you ;  for  she  loved  all,  from  the  glint  of 
sunlight  through  the  dense  foliage,  to  the  tiny 
leaves  and  blossoms  that  nestled  close  to  the 
bosom  of  old  Mother  Earth.  She  loved  the 
mossy  stones  in  the  brook,  and  the  sheltering 
arms  of  the  old  forest  trees ;  yet  withal,  when 
among  these  friends,  as  she  was  wont  to  call  them, 
there  fell  over  her  spirit  a  shadow  of  sadness,  as 
though  with  all  these  beautiful  surroundings  there 
was  something  still  lacking,  a  want  in  some  recess 
of  her  nature  which  was  not  satisfied.  And  after 
all,  are  we  not  each  and  all  conscious  at  times, 
that  within  us  is  a  want  unfilled,  a  something 
which  the  soul  reaches  out  after  and  yet  never 
finds?  Is  it  not  the  most  plausible  theory 
imaginable,  with  the  mind,  heart  and  soul  ever 
reaching  forward  after  this  desired  yet  unattain- 
able something,  that  when  the  death-angel  closes 
the  doors  of  our  earthly  vision,  another  shall  be 
opened  on  things  divine,  and  that  then  we  shall 
be  satisfied  ? 

And  who  shall  say  that  it  may  not  be  this  which 


THE  PICNIC  A  T  ECHO  LAKE.  1 73 

we  have  so  much  desired,  yet  could  not  realize, 
clothed  as  we  were  in  our  mortality,  with 
apparently  so  much  on  earth  to  live  for,  not 
capable  then  of  fully  understanding  that  this  life 
is  but  the  beginning,  and  death  only  the  guardian 
of  the  doorway  through  which  we  are  allowed, 
one  by  one,  to  enter  into  the  fuller  life  beyond. 
And  in  that  beyond  we  shall  live  in  the  fulness 
of  a  divine  satisfaction  ;  our  spirits  dwelling  in 
the  heavenly  form  even  as  we  had  our  life  and 
being  on  earth  below.  Mysterious,  and  past  find- 
ing out,  are  the  ways  of  our  Creator;  but  there 
rests  not  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  but  that  beyond 
the  grave  "  we  shall  be  satisfied."  Such  views  of 
grandeur  as  the  one  before  us  are  well  calculated 
to  teach  us  that  our  earth  knowledge  is  extremely 
limited ;  and  as  we  gaze,  our  brain  seems  filled 
before  we  have  realized  a  fraction  of  the  sublimity 
of  nature's  God.  Back  a  little  way,  where  we  left 
our  girls  in  the  bright  summer  sunshine,  Deacon 
Argyle  had  deposited  them  bag  and  baggage,  and 
had  gone  with  the  parting  injunction,  "You  all 
be  hereabouts  in  the  neighborhood  of  four  o'clock, 
for  I'm  goin'  on  to  Beacon  Falls,  and  I'll  be  back 
by  then." 

"  Say,  girls  !    You've  often  heard   Nellie  speak 


174  STORM-SWEPT. 


of  a  cave  or  some*  such  mysterious  place  near  this 
Echo  Lake.  Is  it  too  far  to  go  before  dinner? 
Notwithstanding  that  delightful  lunch,  I  expect 
if  it  was  very  long  to  dinner-time  I  should  die 
famished." 

"  How  you  talk?" 

"  How  dare  you  ?  " 

"Shame  on  you,  Olga  Mitchell,"  and  sundry 
other  exclamations  came  from  the  other  girls,  but 
Olga  was  proof  against  it. 

"  Pshaw  !  Nellie  Argyle  knows  me  ;  and  I  know 
there's  something  good  in  those  baskets,  now  isn't 
there,  Nell  ?  Can't  we  just  sample  them  ?  "  The 
others  held  their  breath  and  waited. 

"  It  is  rather  a  few  steps  over  there,  and  the 
ride  has  given  me  an  appetite,  too  ; — hasn't  it 
you,  now  own  up,  girls?  All  that  are  willing  to 
own  up  just  come  along  and  help  undo  these 
fastenings  ;  "  and  immediately  there  was  a  grand 
stampede  for  the  baskets.  In  an  incredibly  short 
time  the  cloth  was  spread,  the  dishes  had  been 
tried  in  ever  so  many  places  until  they  would 
stand  without  tipping,  and  then  the  merry  party 
dropped  down  arourfd  that  tempting  spread. 

At  a  motion  from  Olga,  every  head  was  bowed 
while  Nellie  said  grace.  Then  woe  be  unto  the 


THE  PICNIC  AT  ECHO  LAKE. 


chopped-ham  sandwiches,  and  the  cream-cakes, 
and  the  diluted  contents  of  a  small  bottle,  said 
contents  proving  to  be  lemon  juice  and  sugar. 
Whipped-cream  cake,  and  fresh-picked  berries,  dis- 
appeared in  their  turn,  and  then  packing-up  time 
came.  There  was  enough  left  for  a  good  lunch 
on  their  return  ;  and  after  storing  things  in  as 
small  a  space  as  possible,  Nellie  led  the  way  toward 
the  cave. 

"  What  have  you  in  that  parcel,  Nell  ?  "  queried 
one  as  she  saw  her  carefully  guarding  an  odd 
looking  bundle. 

"  Oh,  that  is  one  of  the  most  necessary  articles 
we  shall  use  on  this  expedition,"  she  answered, 
and  then  many  and  varied  were  the  surmises  in 
regard  to  the  mystery,  as  they  termed  it.  The 
footpath  was  quite  narrow,  and  apparently  led  off 
into  the  woods  ;  but  after  walking  some  distance, 
a  sudden  turn  brought  them  face  to  face  with  a 
huge  rock.  Then  Nellie  untied  her  mysterious 
parcel,  and  produced  candles  and  matches. 

"  Is  it  dark  ?  "  gasped  a  faint-hearted  member 
of  the  party. 

"  Oh-h-h  !    I  don't  dare  go  in,"  said  another. 

"  I'll  wait  till  you  come  back,"  said  still  another  ; 
and  then  ; — - 


176  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  We  shall  not  come  back  this  way,"  from  Nel- 
lie, and  Olga  laughed,  saying,  "  It's  not,  To  go  or 
no.t  to  go,  that  isn't  the  question, — there's  no  al- 
ternative ;  "  therefore  each  took  a  lighted  candle 
and  bending  beneath  a  tangle  of  vines  entered 
through  an  opening  in  the  rough  gray  stone. 

The  next  instant  a  volley  of  "  Ohs  "  sent  the 
echoes  sounding,  where  they  could  not  tell;  till 
they  died  away  like  the  reverberations  of  distant 
music.  They  tried  it  again  and  stood  entranced. 
Then,  as  the  sensation  of  fear  died  out,  they  dis- 
covered what  a  beautiful  place  they  were  in.  A 
chamber  whose  walls  glistened  like  silver  in  the 
flickering  candle-light.  The  floor  was  partly 
covered  with  mosses  and  lichens,  while  here  and 
there  were  sparkling  pools  of  water. 

"  Aren't  you  a  bit  afraid  to  go  through  here, 
Nell?"  said  one  of  the  girls. 

"  Not  a  bit, — I've  been  here  a  good  many  times. 
I've  been  once  alone,"  said  brave  Nell. 

"  But  I'll  venture  you  didn't  come  alone  a  second 
time." 

"  I  must  confess  it  seemed  rather  uncanny." 

They  clambered  over  a  few  small  rocks,  and 
there  espied  in  the  distance  a  ray  of  light.  Another 
turn  in  the  rocky  recess  and  behold  a  flood  of 


THE  PICNIC  A  T  ECHO  LAKE. 


177 


light  !  They  were  on  the  border  of  the  lake. 
They  had  been  walking  under  the  huge  boulder, 
and  the  echo  had  come  from  over  the  lake.  They 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  when  all  were  again  in 
the  sunshine  and  seated  themselves  for  a  few  mo- 
ments of  rest,  amusing  themselves  by  throw- 
ing stones  into  the  lake  and  watching  the  rip- 
ples. 

"  Do  you  see  that  hill-top  over  there,"  said 
Nellie,  pointing  backward,  for  she  faced  the  lake. 
All  turned  to  see  a  sugar-loaf  mountain,  the  face 
of  which  had  been  blasted  and  worn  away  till  the 
gray  visage  of  the  huge  mountain  seemed  gar- 
landed with  the  foliage  which  grew  but  a  little 
way  down  from  the  crest  of  the  rock. 

"  We  can't  go  over  there/' 

"  It's  too  far." 

"  It  must  be  five  miles." 

"  Well,  it  is  a  good  two  miles  from  here  to  the 
top  of  it,  but  that  isn't  much  when  one  is  used  to 
it.  One  doesn't  mind  footing  it  for  five  miles  in 
the  country,  you  know." 

"  We  shall  have  to  charge  somebody  for  boots 
and  shoes,  I  think,"  said  one  of  them. 

"  Guess  you'll  have  to,  Kate,  by  the  time  you 
get  back  from  there  ;  for  the  summit  of  Lookout 


178  STORM-SWEPT. 


Ledge  is  four  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea." 

"  But  come  on,  I'm  in  for  all  there  is  to  be  seen 
about  here.  Nellie  has  lived  through  it,  and  I 
guess  we  can." 

With  jest  and  song  they  filled  the  moments, 
and  were  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  before  they 
were  aware  of  it,  and  began  the  gradual  ascent. 
The  path  was  rocky  and  perilously  near  the  edge. 
Upon  reaching  the  ledge  and  looking  down,  the 
river  flowing  at  its  base  could  be  plainly  followed 
in  its  course  to  the  Sound.  A  village  lay  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain.  There  stood  the  church, 
and  the  mill  with  its  pond  and  waterfall.  In  the 
far  distance  beyond  the  rolling  acres  of  grassy 
meadows  was  the  blue  sail-dotted  Sound. 

"  We  can  almost  see  the  foam  in  the  wake  of 
the  ships." 

"  Hush !  "  said  Nellie  as  she  swung  herself  down 
on  to  a  shelving  ledge  and  sat  there  with  her  arm 
about  the  trunk  of  a  small  cedar  which  grew  out 
from  the  face  of  the  rock.  What  a  position  from 
which  to  view  such  a  panorama  as  spread  before 
her,  east,  west  and  south ;  a  picture  bounded 
only  by  the  far  horizon.  "  This  is  as  near  heaven 
as  any  place  on  earth  can  be.  It  is  sublime ! " 


THE  PICNIC  A  T  ECHO  LAKE.  i^g 

and  her  face  told  that  she  was  drinking  at  the 
fountain  of  a  deep  and  real  pleasure. 

Enjoy  it,  child  ;  before  long  you  will  be  a  child 
no  longer.  Epochs  are  marked  in  other  lives: 
they  are  in  yours. 

"  Look !  look ! "  called  Olga,  from  her  post 
some  rods  away.  "  Isn't  that  a  gypsy  camp  over 
there,  where  that  smoke  is  rising  ?  Come  on, 
girls,  and  let  us  get  our  fortunes  told.  Won't  it 
be  fun  !  "  And  she  led  in  the  descent,  which  was 
quickly  accomplished. 

"  Oh,  Nellie,"  said  one  of  the  more  timid  ones, 
"  can  we  ever  find  our  way  back  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Nellie.  "  I've  been  w'nortle- 
berrying  over  this  region  too  many  times  to  get 
lost." 

"  It  must  be  delightful  to  live  out  in  the 
woods  all  through  the  summer  time,"  chimed  in 
Olga. 

"  H'm,"  said  one,  "  I've  no  faith  in  their  incan- 
tations and  nonsense,  and  shall  not  waste  my 
money  on  them."  As  the  bevy  of  girls  ap- 
proached the  cluster  of  tents  they  exclaimed  at 
the  beauty  of  the  travelling  habitations,  and 
went  into  ecstasies  over  a  real  gypsy-kettle 
suspended  above  a  blazing  wood  fire.  Several 


180  STORM-SWEPT. 


women  were  seated  about  on  the  grass,  while  a 
number  of  dusky  little  children  played  about 
under  the  trees.  Two  young  women,  in  gaudy 
attire,  arose  and  approached  our  girls.  The  dark 
faces  of  the  strangers,  together  with  their  gliding 
noiseless  motion,  caused  the  girls  to  pause,  uncer- 
tain whether  they  wanted  an  interview  with  such 
treacherous-looking  beings.  One  was  gorgeous 
in  pink  ribbons,  looped  and  bowed  in  her  hair, 
and  on  her  large-brimmed  hat ;  while  the  other 
was  resplendent  in  red,  even  to  her  shoes. 

"  Have  your  fortunes  told,  ladies  ?  have  your 
fortunes  told?"  said  one. 

"  No,  I  guess  not,"  said  Nellie.  She  began  to 
feel  as  though  they  were  treading  on  forbidden 
ground,  in  thus  trying  to  look  into  the  future. 

"  I  will  bring  you  luck,  lady,  just  you  cross  my 
palm  with  silver,  and  let  me  bring  you  luck. 
You  have  never  had  your  fortune  told  before  by 
a  gypsy?" 

"  No,"  said  Nellie. 

"  I  am  no  common  gypsy,  lady ;  I  tell  you 
true.  I  am  a  seventh  daughter,  and  I  have  great 
power.  I  will  bring  you  luck,  lady ;  just  you 
cross  my  palm  with  silver." 

"  No,  no,"  said   Nellie.     She  felt  as  though  a 


THE  PICNIC  A  T  ECHO  LAKE.  18 1 

charm  was  being  thrown  over  her,  and  she  must 
break  away  from  it. 

"  Tell  the  others  first  and  then  I'll  see." 

"  I  will  tell  you  a  little,  lady — now  listen,  there 
is  something  I  must  tell  you  for  your  good. 
There  is  a  gentleman  who  has  been  paying  a  lit- 
tle attention  to  you,  and  I  want  to  warn  you 
against  him." 

"  Listen  to  the  gypsy's  warning,"  sang  Olga, 
who  stood  near  and  overheard  the  words. 

"  Tell  hers  first,"  and  Nellie  snatched  her  hand 
away. 

Olga  stepped  up. 

"  I'm  ready.  What  have  you  good  in  store  for 
me?  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  of  the  bad.  That 
comes  fast  enough  without  telegraphing  ahead 
about  it." 

"  My  lady  with  the  angel  face,"  and  the  gypsy 
gave  a  low  courtesy,  and  as  Olga  generously 
crossed  her  palm,  the  gypsy  began  her  strange 
words. 

"  Ah,  my  lady,  I  can  tell  you  many  things  you 
would  like  to  know,  and  more  you  wouldn't. 
You  will  not  always  live  this  side  the  water. 
I  see  a  beautiful  home  far  away.  Poor  little  girl 
without  the  mother-love !  All  that  heart  can 


182  STORM-SWEPT. 


desire  save  that — but  it  comes.  That  face  which 
I  see— 

"  What  of  it  ?  "  said  Olga  with  a  start. 

"  You  shall  see  it  yet,  my  lady.  There  are 
some  rough  places  to  come,  but  there  will  be 
happiness  at  last." 

With  that  she  dropped  a  low  courtesy  and 
turned  to  Nellie. 

"  Now,  my  lady,  I  will  tell  you  that  which  is 
true  if  you  only  cross  my  palm.  I  see  you  have 
no  faith,  but  I  have  just  told  your  sister's." 

"  That  is  false,  for  I  have  no  sister." 

"  What  !  not  that  lady  with  the  beautiful 
face?" 

"  No,  only  sisters  as  girls  at  school  often  claim 
to  be." 

"  She  paid  me  generously,"  continued  the 
gypsy,  "and  I  will  tell  you  just  a  little."  She 
held  Nellie's  hand  firmly,  and  examined  it  with 
the  closest  scrutiny. 

"  My  lady,  you  cannot  deceive  me.  Marie 
knows  the  palms  of  gentlewomen  too  well.  I  tell 
you,  the  same  blood  as  that  of  the  fair  lady  flows 
in  these  veins,  and  the  same  kindly  face  bends 
over  you.  She  wins  the  dark-haired  man  ;  but  if 
you  are  wise  it  will  not  break  your  heart.  Much 


THE  PICNIC  AT  ECHO  LAKE.  183 

more  I  could  tell  you,  but  you  have  no  faith. 
Hope  on,  for  all  things  come  to  those  who  patient 
stand  and  wait.  When  the  day  of  triumph  comes, 
remember  Marie." 

The  woman  turned,  and,  with  swift  and  silent 
steps,  disappeared  among  the  trees.  Nellie  was 
bewildered.  What  nonsense,  had  she  been  listen- 
ing to?  Was  this  the  fulfilment  of  the  morning's 
presentiment  ?  It  must  be,  but  how  strange  that 
the  woman  should  choose  both  Olga  and  her ; 
and  then,  the  weird  unlikely  things  of  which  she 
had  spoken.  Nonsense !  That  was  all  it  was, 
and  she  would  try  to  think  no  more  of  it.  But 
one  cannot  throw  off  in  a  moment  such  thoughts 
as  were  aroused  by  the  gypsy's  lore.  It  took 
some  time  to  get  back  to  their  first  quarters,  and 
a  merry  hunt  they  had  for  the  viands.  Deacon 
Argyle  was  on  hand  at  four  P.  M.  ;  and  the  going 
down  of  the  sun  found  our  girls  back  at  Primrose 
Bank,  thoroughly  tired  out  with  their  day's  enjoy- 
ment. How  restful  and  uplifting  it  was  to  sit  in 
the  deepening  shadows,  and  listen  to  the  insects 
chirping  in  the  dew-laden  grass  ;  to  breathe  the 
fragrant  incense  from  nodding  lily-bells. 

The  lowing  of  the  cattle  in  the  fields,  and  the 
whistle  of  the  farmer  s  boy  coming  back  with  his 


184  STORM-SWEPT. 


pail  from  the  milking ;  and  the  last  few  sweet 
notes  of  a  bird's  evening  song,  all  harmonizing 
completely,  even  to  the  Katydids,  carrying  on 
their  everlasting  and  never  to  be  solved  problem 
in  the  row  of  the  maples  in  front  of  the  house. 
Deacon  Argyle  sat  on  the  stoop  in  his  old- 
fashioned  chair,  watching  the  evening  star  go 
down  in  a  halo  of  softly  radiant  opalescence.  It 
was  one  of  those  nights  one  never  forgets.  Not 
remembered  simply  by  the  happenings  of  the 
day  ;  but,  in  the  quiet  holy  stillness,  it  seemed 
as  if  heaven  came  very  near  to  earth,  and  one 
felt  the  benediction.  Hearts  opened  to  embrace 
the  fulness  of  peace  which  seemed  to  pervade  the 
whole  atmosphere.  We  should  give  thanks  for 
such  moments.  That  night,  in  the  quiet  of  her 
white  bed-chamber,  Nellie  knelt  by  the  window 
thinking  deeply,  and  gazing  out  into  the  solemn 
quietness  lighted  by  the  full  rising  moon. 

What  a  cool  and  sweetly  refreshing  breeze 
stirred  the  dark  branches  through  which  the  moon- 
beams shimmered,  softening  the  denseness  of  the 
shadows,  and  lifting  hearts  along  their  stairways 
of  light,  up  to  that  beautiful  home  beyend  the 
clouds.  And  a  quiet  stole  over  her  spirit  which 
had  been  racked  since  the  afternoon,  a  full  and 


THE  PICNIC  A  T  ECHO  LAKE.  185 

overflowing  restfulness,  in  answer  to  an  uplifted 
prayer  that  she  might  be  forgiven  for  her  foolish- 
ness in  listening  to  the  gypsy's  words  ;  and  that 
she  might  feel  that  forgiveness,  by  having  those 
words  obliterated  from  her  memory.  '  Conscience 
had  whispered  that  it  was  unwise  to  listen  ;  but 
the  words  were  imprinted  on  her  brain.  That  is 
the  penalty  for  sin.  We  may  ask  and  receive 
forgiveness  for  a  sin  committed,  or  for  a  foolish 
act  which  has  been  done  ;  we  may  feel  the  as 
surance  of  forgiveness,  but  the  trace  of  the  sin  is. 
indelibly  printed  on  our  own  inner  sight,  and  the 
quiver  comes  around  the  heart-strings  whenever 
we  think  of  the  foolish  act.  And  yet,  Nellie  went 
to  her  bed  forgiven  for  her  weakness,  while  poor 
passion-tossed  Olga,  was  wondering  and  racking 
her  tired  brain  over  the  things  which  she  im- 
agined had  been,  or  might  yet  be  in  store  for  her. 
Poor  little  girl !  Why  did  she  not  cast  her  burden 
on  the  great  Burden  Bearer  ? 


i86  STORM-SWEPT. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   DRAGON   OF  ARMADALE. 

"  Then  you  came  with  oath  and  ring, 

Wooing  me  as  lovers  woo  ; 
And  the  gladness  of  the  spring, 
And  the  sunshine  came  with  you." 

I  STY  yellow  butterflies  dipped  and 
skimmed  over  the  closely  shorn  mead- 
.  ows ;  the  hay-crops  had  been  har- 
vested, and  the  crickets  and  winged 
grasshoppers  buzzed  and  whirred  over  the 
drying  stubble.  Over  two  years  had  gone  by, 
bringing  their  varied  changes.  Many  white- 
winged  messages  had  flown  back  and  forth  over 
the  ocean  between  Olga  and  Nellie.  On  this 
beautiful  day  in  early  September,  when  it  seemed 
as  though  all  the  beauties  of  summer  were  combin- 
ing, we  find  Nellie  just  a  little  uneasy  in  mind. 
She  was  sitting  down  by  the  waterside,  where 
Tumbling  Foam  brook  fell  in  misty  spray  over 
slippery  gray  stones  and  tufts  of  long  grass  which 


THE  DRAGON  OF  ARMADALE.  187 

grew  in  the  crevices.  It  was  not  the  plain  little 
face  which  had  been  pressed  against  the  pane 
that  Thanksgiving-day  several  years  before.  The 
bloom  and  grace  of  womanhood  were  upon  her  ; 
the  gray  eyes  wore  a  softened  expression,  as  she 
gazed  abstractedly  away  into  the  distances  among 
the  forest  trees,  until  sight  of  all  present  was 
lost,  and  she  saw  scenes  which  fancy  pictured  to 
her  inner  view.  The  beautiful  tones  of  the  dis- 
tances, the  ambers  and  greens,  and  shadows 
formed  no  part  of  her  vista,  simply  serving  as  a 
fitting  background  for  the  subject  study  which 
an  artist  would  have  been  eager  to  transfer  to 
canvass. 

A  crackling  of  branches  overhead.,  brought  her 
back  to  the  present,  and  instantly  a  rosy  flush 
xoverspread  her  features,  then  receding,  left  her 
quite  pale.  The  waves  of  dark  hair  gracefully 
outlined  the  white  temples,  the  lips  trembled 
slightly,  but  ceased  to  do  so  as  she  set  them 
tightly  and  folded  her  hands  as  though  the  move- 
ment were  born  of  a  resolve.  There  was  no  cause 
for  alarm,  it  was  only  a  gray  squirrel  which  came 
chattering  down  to  the  rail  fence  which  crossed 
the  brook  farther  down,  where  the  stream  had 
in  a  measure  gained  control  of  itself,  and  was 


188  STORM-SWEPT. 


taking  its  way  in  a  little  more  quiet  and  orderly 
fashion. 

Within  sight  of  her  resting-place  towered  the 
stately  forms  of  the  Seven  Giants,  a  beautiful 
clump  of  oak  trees  whose  branches  spread  far  and 
wide.  The  seat  near  their  base  was  a  favorite 
haunt  of  Leon  Thorpe ;  and  he  frequently  came 
there  to  study.  In  fact  it  was  there  that  Nellie 
most  often  found  him,  when  she  had  a  letter  from 
Olga  to  read  to  him.  Though  distance  made  his 
heart  grow  fonder,  it  did  not  seem  to  have  the  same 
effect  upon  Olga,  for  she  never  wrote  to  Leon. 
His  was  not  a  passing  passion  to  be  lightly  tossed 
aside,  for  he  loved  the  airy  creature  with  all  the 
fulness  of  his  nature,  and  though  the  sea  divided 
them,  her  face  was  enshrined  in  his  memory. 
She  wrote  often  of  their  journeyings  from  one 
place  of  note  to  another,  and  as  long  as  they  did 
not  settle  in  any  particular  place,  his  courage  kept 
up,  and  hope  held  sway. 

But  it  was  not  to  see  Leon,  nor  to  read  him  a 
letter,  that  Nellie  had  found  her  way  to  the  brook 
on  this  particular  day.  At  Madame  Catlin's 
Seminary  receptions  were  occasionally  held,  and 
the  most  eligible  of  the  college  men  invited. 
Clyde  Delamere  had  been  among  them,  and  at  the 


THE  DRAGON  OF  ARMADALE.  189 


last  one,  while  in  Nellie's  company,  had  allowed 
her  to  examine  a  quaint  signet  ring  which  he 
wore.  As  he  left  that  evening,  he  had  slipped  it 
on  her  finger  with  the  remark,  "  Wear  it  till  you 
see  me  again,  Au  revoir  !  "  and  was  gone.  Her 
heart  had  stood  still  for  a  moment.  Was  it  the 
magnetism  of  his  touch,  or  was  there  some  charm 
about  the  ring  which  sent  a  faintness  through  her 
whole  being  ?  Neither.  It  was  simply  a  tele- 
graphic message  from  her  wide-awake  conscience, 
that  she  was  now  liable  to  commit  what  ap- 
proached nearer  to  a  sin  than  she  had  ever  been 
guilty. of  before  in  all  her  child  life.  What  would 
mother  and  father  say  ? 

They  had  heard  her  speak  of  Clyde  Delamere, 
they  knew  he  was  a  Yale  student,  and  that,  as  a 
class,  they  were  to  be  avoided.  Mothers  looked 
grave  when  their  daughters  fell  into  the  company 
of  students,  for  many  with  broken  hearts  and 
ruined  lives,  had  lived  on  in  the  old  Elm  City  as 
class  after  class  of  Yale  men  finished  their  college 
course  and  left  the  place.  But  as  to  this  quaint 
ring,  she  hardly  knew  what  to  do  about  it,  heart- 
ily wishing  he  had  it  safely  back  in  his  possession  ; 
and  yet,  she  would  like  to  see  him  just  once  more, 
why,  she  hardly  knew.  He  had  said  that  some 


1 90  STORM-SWEPT. 


day  she  might  find  him  fishing  at  Tumbling 
Foam  ;  but  she  had  looked  for  his  coming  day 
after  day,  and  he  came  not.  She  had  said  nothing 
about  it  at  home,  and  she  really  would  like  to  get 
out  of  the  scrape  without  their  knowing  anything 
about  it ;  for  to  her  there  seemed  something 
almost  compromising  about  a  girl's  having  in  her 
possession  a  ring  belonging  to  a  young  man  with 
whom  she  had  so  slight  an  acquaintance.  She 
was  about  to  return  to  the  house  when  a  branch 
again  crackled,  and  this  time  she  saw  a  manly 
form  passing  in  and  out  between  the  forest  trees. 
In  a  moment  Clyde  Delamere  had  swung  himself 
lightly  across  the-  brook,  and  was  clasping  her 
hand  in  a  glad  welcome,  his  flushed  face  watch- 
ing hers  closely,  to  learn  whether  or  not  she  was 
glad  to  see  him. 

"Why,  Miss  Argyle,  this  is  an  unexpected, 
though  hoped-for  pleasure.  Are  you  as  glad  to  see 
me  as  I  am  to  meet  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  get  rid  of  this  dragon.  It  has 
been  a  terrible  trouble  to  me,  I  wondering  how 
you  would  get  it  back  again  ;  for  I  dare  not 
trust  it  to  the  mails,"  and  she  handed  him  the 
curious  ring. 

"  Pray  be  seated,  Miss  Argyle,  I   am   sorry  to 


THE  DRAGON  OF  ARM  AD  ALE.  191 

learn  that  the  ring  has  been  a  care  to  you.  Do 
not  run  away,  please,  stay  a  few  moments.  It  is 
quite  a  walk  over  here  from  the  Junction." 

"  I  fear  you  took  the  most  roundabout  way  if 
you  came  by  the  turnpike.  You  should  have 
taken  that  old  road  f o  the  left,  when  you  reached 
the  sign  board.  If  I  had  known  you  wanted  to 
come,  I  could  have  told  you  the  nearest  way." 

"  But  I  dare  not  tell  you  that  I  was  coming 
surely,  for  fear  you  would  forbid  me." 

And  her  heart  came  up  in  her  throat  again,  and 
seemed  to  lie  there  fluttering. 

"  I  have  guarded  your  ring  very  carefully,  for  I 
thought,  by  the  crest,  it  might  be  an  heirloom." 

"  So  it  is,  did  I  never  tell  you  about  it?  Sit 
down,  you  are  standing  too  long.  If  you  must 
go,  wait  till  I  tell  you  a  story.  That  ring  belonged 
to  my  father.  He  was  the  youngest  son  of  a 
Scotch  baron.  My  uncle  now  owns  the  estate. 
He  is  a  grizzly  old  bachelor,  and  I  assure  you  I 
shall  not  imitate  him  if  I  can  prevail  upon  some 
little  dark-eyed  beauty  to  share  my  lot  with  me." 

Why  did  her  cheeks  burn  again  so  hotly  that 
he  must  observe  them?  Could  his  speech  have 
any  reference  to  her  ?  She  put  aside  the  thought, 
but  the  pure  little  heart  fluttered  on. 


192  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  Yes,"  he  repeated,  as  he  placed  the  ring  on 
his  finger  and  unwound  the  line  from  the  reel, 
"  I  hope  some  day  a  certain  sweet-faced  little 
friend  of  mine  will  take  pity  on  an  old  bachelor 
and  marry  me." 

"  No  doubt  you  will  gain  her  consent  when  you 
ask  her,"  Nellie  innocently  replied. 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  "  He  spoke  in  a  low  thrill- 
ing tone  that  frightened  her.  She  started  up,  say- 
ing, "  I  must  go,  mother  will  miss  me,  I  have  been 
gone  so  long." 

She  felt  that  she  must  run  away,  but  chance  or 
fate  was  helping  him  out.  As  she  arose  to  go  the 
hook  on  the  line  caught  in  the  flounce  of  her  airy 
muslin  dress. 

"  There,  little  one,  I  have  caught  you  ;  so 
you  see  you  are  not  to  run  away  from  me. 
Be  seated  a  moment  while  I  disengage  the 
hook." 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  can  get  it  out ;  "  and  she 
did ;  for  she  would  not  accept  of  his  assistance. 
Whether  the  move  had  been  made  purposely  or 
not,  she  could  not  tell ;  but  the  fact  of  the  case 
was  that  she  was  still  sitting  there  not  two  feet 
av,-ay  from  him,  she  a  budding  innocent  girl,  he 
a  winner  of  women's  hearts.  He  endeavored 


THE  DRAGON  OF  ARMADALE.       193 

to  continue  the  conversation  in  a  less  ardent 
manner,  thinking  he  would  try  and  not  frighten 
her  away  again. 

"  Yes,  I  am  of  Scotch  descent,  and  you  are, 
too,  I  judge,  by  your  name ;  as  the  Argyles 
come  from  away  back  in  the  Scotch  ages.  You 
look  more  like  the  French,  I  think,  though." 

"  Mother's  name  was  Ellen  Douglas  and 
father's  of  course  was  Argyle,"  answered  Nellie 
Honestly. 

"  I  have  here  in  my  pocket  a  match-box  made 
of  agate  from  the  hills  on  my  uncle's  estate ; " 
and  he  thrust  his  hand  into  his  vest-pocket. 
With  an  exclamation  of  pain,  he  hastily  with- 
drew it ;  and  there  imbedded  in  the  thick  of  his 
thumb  was  another  fishhook. 

"  You  see  your  turn  has  come  now.  I  wonder 
if  you  are  not  sorry  you  didn't  let  me  go 
sooner?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  Miss  Argyle  ;  I  assure  you  a  few 
moments  of  your  society  is  well  worth  this  slight 
pain." 

"  But  it  is  too  bad,  and  I   am  very  sorry.     You 

must   come  home  with   me  at  once,  for  mother 

can  remove  the  hook,  I  am  sure.     She  has  a  case 

of  surgical  instruments,  and  many  an  ugly  sliver 

13 


I94  STORM-SWEPT. 

has  she  extracted.  Why,  she's  almost  as  good  as 
Dr.  Strong  for  such  wounds." 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  go  to  him,"  said  Clyde, 
although  he  was  glad  of  half  a  chance  to  visit 
Nellie's  home. 

"  Certainly  not,"  she  replied.  "  It  is  too  far  in 
the  first  place,  and  mother  can  do  it  just  as 
well ;  "  she  wouldn't  have  him  go  over  to  Dr. 
Strong's  for  anything. 

They  hurried  up  through  the  meadows,  not 
pausing  to  observe  the  beautiful  views  which 
nature  had  in  store  at  every  turn  ;  for  the  wound 
was  growing  quite  painful.  Mrs.  Argyle  was  in 
the  sitting-room  as  Nellie  rushed  in  at  the  back 
door,  through  the  well-room  and  kitchen,  calling, 
"  Oh,  mother,  do  come  quick  !  " 

"  What  is  it,  child  ?  "  and  she  rose  to  meet  her, 
a  look  of  surprise  passing  over  her  features  as  she 
saw  a  strange  young  man  behind  Nellie. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Delamere,  mother,  whom  I  have 
often  met  at  Madame  Catlin's.  He  has  been 
fishing  in  our  brook  and  unfortunately  has  stuck 
a  fishhook  in  his  hand.  He  thought  it  best  to 
go  to  the  doctor,  but  I  knew  you  could  get  it  out 
if  you  tried." 

She  had  said  it  all  in  a  breath,  and  in  spite  of 


THE  DRAGON  OF  ARM  AD  ALE,  195 

the  pain,  Clyde  was  smiling  at  the  odd  introduc- 
tion. Mrs.  Argyle  lost  no  time  in  preparing  for 
the  operation.  Nellie  stood  by  sympathetically 
feeling  every  thrust  of  the  keen-pointed  little 
lance,  but  the  hook  was  at  length  removed,  and 
the  hand  bandaged.  Then  the  trio  sat  and 
chatted.  After  a  time  the  deacon  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance. Nellie  was  quite  pleased  to  think 
things  had  taken  such  a  conscience-easing  turn 
for  her,  and,  in  his  way,  Clyde  Delamere  was 
equally  well  pleased.  Of  course  he  returned  to 
the  city  with  an  invitation  to  call  again,  and  he 
took  advantage  of  the  hospitality  at  Primrose 
Bank.  Noble  Ralph  Strong  fell  into  the  back- 
ground. Though  always  an  admirer  of  Nellie,  he 
had  never  known  how  much  he  was  afraid  of  los- 
ing her,  until  he  saw  her  so  frequently  in' com- 
panionship with  Clyde.  And  he  was  a  wooer 
after  her  own  heart  ;  so  she  deceived  herself ; 
just  such  a  knight  as  she  had  expected  might 
come  some  day ;  for  girls  do  expect  such  things 
to  come  to  pass.  He  sent  her  the  most  exquisite 
flowers,  and  they  drove  in  the  sunshine,  and 
walked  in  the  moonlight,  and  went  boating  in  the 
twilight,  all  through  those  beautiful  days.  It 
seemed  that  summer  was  prolonged  to  allow 


196  STORM-SWEPT. 


of  more  time  for  their  wooing.  When  winter 
came,  with  its  round  of  gayeties,  Nellie's  head 
was  quite  turned. 

The  deacon  was  doing  considerable  thinking 
about  this  time  ;  and  Mrs.  Argyle's  heart  almost 
misgave  her,  for  she  had  an  inkling  of  Ralph's 
regard  for  Nellie ;  yet  she  thought  best  to  let 
things  go  their  own  way.  The  deacon  began  to 
be  a  little  uneasy,  and  more  than  once  he  said  to 
his  wife :  "  If  I  thought  that  fellow  was  only 
making  love  to  our  girl  for  the  sport  of  it,  I'd 
soon  settle  his  hash  for  him."  But  they  finally 
decided  to  let  things  run  their  course,  at  the 
same  time  keeping  careful  watch,  and  then  there 
would  be  no  blame  at  any  one's  door;  but  if  they 
had  thought  it  possible  that  Clyde  Delamere  was 
trifling  with  Nellie,  there  would  have  been  a 
tornado  in  the  Argyle  household. 

The  spring  had  come  and  gone,  with  its  balmy 
air  and  bursting  buds  and  beauty  all  about.  One 
early  August  evening  Clyde  put  in  his  appear- 
ance. It  was  such  a  beautiful  night,  would  Nel- 
lie be  allowed  to  go  for  a  row  on  the  pond  ?  The 
moon  shone  as  bright  as  day,  and  all  nature  was 
in  a  wooing  mood.  Arm 'in  arm  they  sauntered 
toward  the  pond.  Once  out  upon  the  yielding 


THE  DRAGON  OF  ARMADALE.       197 

waters  all  was  forgotten  save  that  they  were  alone 
together  on  a  faultless  night  under  a  bewitchingly 
moonlit  sky.  Out  into  the  middle  of  the  pond 
floated  the  boat,  the  oars  resting  in  their  locks, 
while  Nellie  and  Clyde  lived  through  the  hour 
that  comes  but  once  in  a  maiden's  life;  the  hour 
of  her  first  proposal.  He  had  said  as  they  rowed 
out  over  the  gleaming  waves,  "  I  have  a  little 
news  to  tell  you,  darling,  I  wonder  if  you  will 
care." 

"  What  is  it,  Clyde  ?  "  and  it  seemed  as  though 
a  hand  grasped  her  heart-strings,  so  she  could 
hardly  breathe. 

"  I  have  a  summons  to  cross  the  water  on  the 
next  steamer ;  would  you  care  if  I  went,  little 
one?" 

She  dropped  her  head  in  her  hands-  and 
answered  never  a  word.  Then  it  was  that  he 
rested  the  oars,  and  moved  to  her  side. 

"  Then  you  would  care,  just  a  little?" 

His  voice  was  deep  and  low,  strangely  thrilling, 
while  his  hot  breath  against  her  cheek  caused  a 
burning  pain  at  her  heart. 

"  You  must  not  go,"  she  whispered  ;  as  he  held 
her  closely  to  his  side,  while  her  curly  head  lay 
for  a  moment  against  his  strong  arm. 


198  STORM-SWEPT. 


"You  do,  then,  really  care?"  The  hot  tears 
were  dropping  on  the  hand  with  which  he  tried 
to  raise  the  tear-dimmed  eyes  to  meet  his  love- 
lighted  gaze.  "  Listen  to  me,  little  one,  do  not 
sob  so,  you  make  my  heart  ache.  I  must  go,  but 
I  will  come  back  again  ;  for  there  is  only  one 
girl  in  the  universe  who  will  receive  the  first  in- 
vitation to  my  wedding,  and  that  girl  is  Nellie 
Argyle.  Will  you  accept  my  invitation,  little 
one,  seal  it  with  a  kiss ;  "  and  she  raised  her  lips 
to  meet  his.  The  night  was  bewitching,  and  the 
moments  rolled  on.  Then,  when  they  came  back 
to  earth  again,  Clyde  reluctantly  picked  up  the 
oars  and  took  our  Nellie  home.  There  were 
promises  to  write,  promises  of  fidelity,  in  fact  all 
the  promises  that  young  lovers  always  make ;  but 
in  spite  of  the  many  heart-aches  three  weeks 
found  Clyde  across  the  Atlantic,  and  Nellie  Argyle 
at  Primrose  Bank. 

Clyde's  departure  and  subsequent  coolness  had 
opened  her  eyes.  A  strange  sensation,  half  dread 
and  half  happiness,  had  gained  possession  of  her, 
and  she  could  not  analyze  it ;  only,  as  time  wore 
on,  she  realized  it  was  not  love  which  had  filled 
her  heart  in  response  to  Clyde's  enthusiastic 
wooing,  but  rather  more  like  a  responsive  mag- 


THE  DRAGON  OF  ARMADALE.  199 

netism  in  answer  to  that  which  he  had  exerted 
over  her.  With  the  reaction  came  the  knowledge 
that  she  could  live  without  him  ;  in  truth  she 
felt  more  free  of  heart  than  ever,  now  that  the 
ocean  was  between  them  ;  but  she,  innocent  of 
the  wiles  of  professional  lovers,  was  so  afraid  she 
had  done  wrong,  that  she  worried  herself  sick 
over  it.  In  a  few  weeks  the  reaction  came,  and 
Nellie  tossed  on  a  bed  of  pain,  her  poor  little 
body  racked  by  fever.  Old  Doctor  Strong  was 
away  with  his  wife,  but  Doctor  Ralph  was  at 
home.  What  a  sad  heart  he  bore  to  and  from 
the  house  where  his  idol  lay  with  her  life  at  the 
lowest  ebb,  and  he  must  fight  to  win  her  back  to 
life  only  to  be  snatched  from  him  by  that  other. 
But  his  love  for  her  was  strong.  He  fought  for 
her  life  with  the  fierceness  of  despair.  He  filled 
her  lungs  with  air  from  his  own  sturdy  ones,  and 
sent  his  own  strong  life-blood  coursing  through 
her  pulseless  veins. 

Over  and  over  again  he  called  all  his  medical 
skill  to  aid  him  in  bringing  back  the  quivering 
heart-beats  that  at  times  ceased  to  be  discernible. 
Night  and  day  he  was  by  her  side,  calling  on  all 
the  powers  of  heaven  to  use  him  as  the  means  of 
saving  that  dear  life,  though  destined  never  to  be 


STORM-SWEPT. 


his  own ;  yet  far  dearer  to  him  than  the  life  of 
Ralph  Strong.  Over  and  over  again,  in  imagina- 
tion, had  he  closed  the  dark  gray  eyes,  and  gazed 
upon  the  perfectly  chiselled  features,  feeling  that 
the  weary  brain  had  never  known  of  the  deep 
pure  love  which  had  lived  for  her  within  his 
breast.  He  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  see  in 
imagination  the  casket-lid  fastened  down,  and 
the  last  sad  rites  performed  ;  and  had  felt  that 
his  life's  light  had  gone  out ;  that  the  love  of  his 
life  was  buried.  But  Heaven  was  more  kind  than 
he  had  faith  to  believe.  She  lived.  And  how 
resolutely  he  set  about  building  up  the  frail  little 
body. 

It  seemed  almost  as  though  he  were  saving  her 
for  himself.  She  had  been  so  near  to  the  bound- 
ary, that  that  other  might  almost  have  lost  a 
claim.  A  happier  man  never  lived  than  Ralph 
Strong  when  Nellie  was  able  to  ride  out  with  him 
for  only  a  little  way.  Many  things  were  possible. 
Clyde  Delamere  was  across  the  Atlantic  Ocean, 
and  Nellie  and  he  were  here  ;  but, — and  then 
came  the  dashing  of  rising  hope,  when  the  thought 
came  that  perhaps,  after  all,  Clyde  might  ever  be 
first  in  her  affections. 


A  SUMMER  NIGHT'S  VIGIL. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  SUMMER  NIGHT'S  VIGIL. 

"  Stand  up  against  the  rising  sun  : 

Your  shadow  on  the  grass 
Shall  trace  the  limit  of  my  world, 
Beyond,  I  shall  not  pass." 


HE  months  were  beginning  to  count 
up  since  Clyde  Delamere  had  said 
good-bye  to  Nellie.  Nearly  a  year  had 
gone  and  the  roses  were  again  tinting 
her  cheeks,  so  Father  Argyle  had  said  on  the 
morning  of  this  day  when  she  had  been  whortle- 
berrying.  And  now  she  was  kneeling  by  the  open 
window  gazing  out  into  the  cool  summer  night, 
and  watching  the  sparkling  points  of  light  over 
in  the  hollow  where  the  village  lay.  The  shower 
had  cleared  away  all  the  haze  in  the  atmosphere, 
and  the  honeysuckle  around  the  window  was  all 
the  more  fragrant  for  its  burden  of  raindrops, 
and  the  tall  white  August  lilies  sent  forth  an  in- 
toxicating fragrance.  How  the  stars  gleamed 


STORM-SWEPT. 


and  twinkled,  while  each  steadily  shining  planet 
majestically  sped  on  its  course  !  How  weirdly 
the  shadows  of  the  trees  fell  against  every  light- 
colored  object,  casting  uncanny  moving  images 
clearly  in  the  foreground,  dimly  in  the  distance  ! 
Above  the  noise  of  the  summer  insects,  sounding 
their  nightly  chant,  came  the  steady  roar  of  Tum- 
bling Foam  dam.  She  felt  it  was  good  to  be 
there,  under  that  mantle  of  solemn  quiet  thrown 
over  a  sleeping  world. 

She  singled  out  the  light  which  she  knew 
shone  from  Ralph  Strong's  study  window.  He 
was  there  now,  busy  with  his  ponderous  vol- 
umes. Some  day  he  would  leave  the  little  village 
in  all  probability  and  make  a  home  for  himself 
somewhere,  where  he  could  work  up  a  large  prac- 
tice. And  a  little  pain  of  dread  tugged  for  a 
moment  at  her  heart-strings.  Why  was  that, 
I  wonder?  She  was  engaged  to  Clyde  Delamere, 
but  Clyde  had  been  gone  for  months,  and  she 
had  scarcely  heard  from  him.  Why  was  it  that 
Ralph  Strong  always  came  up  before  her  mind's 
eye  in  comparison  with  Clyde  Delamere  ?  Ralph 
with  his  broad  shoulders  and  frank  open  face, 
yet  full  of  tenderness  and  a  something  back  of 
his  courteousness  which  she  had  never  yet  quite 


A  SUMMER  NIGHT'S  VIGIL. 


203 


been  able  to  discover.  She  liked  Ralph  Strong. 
She  was  afraid  she  liked  him  .  better  than  Clyde, 
who  was  fascinating  while  he  was  in  one's  com- 
pany, like  those  vari-colored  blinking  stars  up 
there  in  the  blackness  of  incomprehensible  space, 
but  Ralph  was  like  the  planets  in  their  intensely 
quiet,  steady  gleaming. 

She  sighed  as  she  analyzed  the  traitor  thoughts 
in  her  mind;  she  had  not  spoken  them  aloud, 
but  was  almost  afraid  she  had.  Did  girls  ever 
have  such  misgivings  after  they  had  been  engaged 
for  awhile?  Of  course  the  engagement  was  just 
between  themselves,  and  wouldn't  it  be  strange 
if  nothing  came  of  it  ?  Such  things  had  happened. 
A  little  cry,  half  hope,  half  joy,  started  up  from 
her  heart,  but  she  hushed  it  back  for  fear  it  was 
wrong. 

When  Clyde  was  there  she  thought  she  loved 
him — she  put  the  "  thought  "  in  now — then  she 
would  not  have  harbored  the  word  in  connection 
with  the  others.  Had  he  not  held  her  close  to 
himself,  and,  pressing  her  curly  head  down  upon 
his  breast,  bent  his  own  face  so  close  to  hers 
that  his  moustache  swept  her  hot  cheek,  and  then 
how  he  had  begged  for  one  parting  kiss,  meas- 
uring his  happiness  by  the  wealth  of  the  world 


204  STORM-SWEPT. 


if  she  would  only  grant  him  that  boon.  And 
then  she  had  disengaged  herself  from  his  close 
embrace,  and,  standing  alone,  with  her  dark  eyes 
looking  soberly  up  into  his,  had  quietly  said, 
"  Clyde  Delamere,  I  shall  never  kiss  but  one 
man  excepting  my  father,  and  that  one  \vi\l  be 
my  husband.  I  believe  that  a  woman's  kisses 
should  be  kept  sacredly  for  the  one  whom  God's 
word  makes  a  part  of  her  life  until  death  shall 
part  them.  You  must  wait  patiently  until  the 
right  to  claim  them  is  yours." 

He  had  taken  off  his  hat  involuntarily  while 
she  was  speaking,  she  was  so  like  an  angel  in  her 
simple  purity  of  thought.  She  was  far  too  good 
for  a  union  with  such  a  man,  and  he  knew  it,  too  ; 
but  do  we  not  all  covet  that  which  we  know  to 
be  best,  whatever  our  needs  may  be.  That  night, 
as  Clyde  Delamere  left  her,  the  last  night  he  saw 
her,  he  thought  how  fortunate  he  was  in  the  pos- 
session of  such  a  treasure,  true  as  steel,  pure  as 
a  dove,  bright  and  winsome — what  a  gem  of  a 
wife  she  would  be.  He  could  wait  patiently  for 
the  wifely  kiss,  dear  little  sweetheart. 

And  now  she  was  harboring  thoughts  of  Ralph. 
She  knew  she  should  never  have  thought  of  such 
a  thing  had  he  not  taken  her  under  his  protect- 


A  SUMMER  NIGHT'S  VIGIL. 


205 


ing  wing  that  day  during  the  thunder-storm. 
How  it  had  poured,  and  how  his  courage  had 
sustained  her  as  they  sped  along  the  mountain 
path,  dark  as  the  overhanging  trees  and  black 
clouds  could  make  it,  illuminated  almost  every 
moment  by  the  lurid  flashes  of  the  lightning. 
His  courage  had  wonderfully  sustained  her,  and 
she  could  not  help  but  admire  him  as  he  im- 
parted his  cool-headedness  to  the  foaming  animal 
dashing  along  at  a  terrific  speed.  How  sublimely 
the  thunder  rattled  among  the  mountain  ledges, 
and  how  awe-inspiring  were  the  sheets  of  light- 
ning which  one  instant  lighted  up  the  mountain 
path  like  noon-day,  and  then  left  them  in  inky 
darkness ! 

Ralph  had  driven  straight  home  with  her  before 
the  fury  of  the  storm  had  abated  and .  set  her 
down  on  the  front  door-sill  as  dry  as  though  the 
elements  had  not  been  indulging  in  a  terrific  out- 
burst. She  had  thanked  him,  but  had  not  asked 
him  in  ;  such  is  the  perversity  of  woman's  nature. 
The  very  thing  she  wanted  most  to  do,  she  did 
not  do.  Why  ?  Because,  a  woman's  reason — 
unfinished,  and  unfathomable  mental  reservation 
often  lies  within  a  because. 

Then  she  began  at  the  beginning  and  went  all 


206  STORM-SWEPT. 


over  it  again.  She  had  been  berrying  out  in  the 
great  whortleberry  pasture,  where  the  bushes 
grew  thickly  together  and  were  well-laden  with 
the  shining  black  fruit.  She  had  kept  on  pick- 
ing while  the  sun  shone  brightly,  and  again  more 
dimly  as  the  white  foam-like  thunder-heads  crept 
slowly  up  from  behind  the  Hanging  Hills.  It 
was  more  comfortable  picking  in  the  shadow  of 
the  clouds.  What  a  quiet  stillness  settled  all 
about  her  !  The  birds  hushed  their  carols,  and  a 
solitary  tree-toad  in  the  great  chestnut  tree  which 
stood  alone  in  the  wide  berry-pasture,  croaked 
his  never  failing  prophecy.  The  clouds  overhead 
grew  darker  while  low  rumblings  and  slight  flash 
reflections  came  up  from  the  northwest.  Nellie 
was  picking  rapidly  now, 'her  pail  almost  full.  A 
great  drop  struck  upon  her  hand,  then  another 
and  another — the  shower  was  coming — there  was 
no  shelter  but  the  tree.  Common  sense  told  her 
that  a  drenching  was  preferable  to  taking  shelter 
under  a  tree,  so  she  picked  up  her  pail,  and  started 
for  the  road.  But  another  shelter  was  at  hand. 

As  she  reached  the  highway  she  saw  a  cloud  of 
dust  in  the  distance,  and  out  from  it  came  a  horse 
and  carriage  with  one  occupant.  If  it  were  only 
some  one  whom  she  knew,  was  her  hope.  It 


A  SUMMER  NIGHT'S  VIGIL.  207 

surely  was  Dr.  Ralph.  "  Miss  Argyle,  allow  me  ;  " 
and  before  she  knew  it  Nellie  and  her  berries  were 
in  the  carriage  headed  for  home.  She  was  safely 
under  cover  when  the  fury  of  the  storm  burst  upon 
them. 

"  How  fortunate,"  said  Ralph.  "  You  would 
have  been  drenched." 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  happened  along." 
"  So  am  I,"  he  answered  quietly.  He  did  not 
tell  her  that  more  than  an  hour  before,  on  his  way 
to  see  a  patient,  he  had  seen  the  pink  sunbonnet 
at  the  far  end  of  the  lot,  and  was  pretty  sure  the 
owner  was  Nellie  Argyle.  He  had  noticed  the 
shower  approaching,  and  had  hurried  back  hoping 
to  overtake  her,  with  what  result  we  have  seen. 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  dreadful,  Doctor,"  as  a  blinding 
flash  and  deafening  crash  came  at  the  same  in- 
stant. 

"  It  is  sublime  !  " 
"  Are  you  never  afraid  ?  " 
"  Never  afraid,  yet  often  overawed." 
"It  frightens    me  dreadfully  lately,   though   I 
used  to  enjoy  thunderstorms  so  well.     I  would  sit 
at  the  window  and  watch  the  lightning." 

Flash — then  a  deafening  roar — it  had  struck  a 
barn  not  twenty  rods  away.  Nellie  blanched  with 


2o3  STORM-SWEPT. 


fear.  Up  on  his  haunches  reared  the  now 
thoroughly  affrighted  horse. 

"  Steady,  boy,  steady,"  came  Ralph's  firm,  quiet 
tones.  It  might  have  been  a  flash  of  summer 
heat-lightning  for  all  he  appeared  to  notice  it, 
but  Nellie  was  nearly  paralyzed  with  fright.  How 
gently  he  had  soothed  her  fears,  how  tenderly  he 
had  placed  his  hand  on  hers,  clasped  in  agony  ! 
"  Are  you  faint,  Nellie  ?  " — the  old  school-boy  way 
of  speaking,  and  she  had  not  resented  it. 

"  Just  a  little,"  came  the  answer  from  under 
the  pink  sunbonnet. 

"  We  shall  soon  be  at  home,  and  I  am  glad,  for 
still  another  shower  is  coming." 

In  three  minutes  more  she  was  at  home  with 
her  berries  in  the  kitchen,  and  Doctor  Ralph  was 
giving  thanks  for  the  thunderstorm,  and  blessing 
his  lucky  stars.  The  light  went  out  in  Ralph's 
study  window  before  Nellie  arose  from  her  knees, 
and  I  think  the  recording  angel  was  satisfied  with 
the  turn  affairs  were  taking. 


AN  EPISODE  A  T  ROSE  CLIFF. 


209 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AN   EPISODE   AT   ROSE   CLIFF. 

Life  is  too  short  for  any  bitter  feeling; 

Time  is  the  best  avenger,  if  we  wait; 
The  years  speed  by,  and  on  their  wings  bring  healing; 

We  have  no  room  for  anything  like  hate." 

OR  the  land   sakes,  Jared   Cooper,  if 
you  don't  beat  the  Dutch  !  " 

"  What's  up  now,  Hester,"  drawled 
Jared   from  the  depths  of  the  weekly 
paper  which  had  just  arrived. 

"  Up  !  Considerable  I  should  say  !  It's  only  by 
the  unlikeliest  miracle  that  I  ever  discovered  it." 
"  Wall,  ain't  you  a  talking  pretty  loud,  Hester,  or 
what  on  airth  air  you  a  blowin'  about,  anyway  ?  " 
said  Jared,  as  his  chair  came  forward  with  a  thump, 
and  stood  on  its  four  legs,  as  was  originally  in- 
tended it  should  do. 

"  I'm  a  blowin'  about  my  sister   Eunice,  if  you 
wanter  know." 

"  I  hain't   done  nothin'  to  your  sister  Eunice, 
not  as  I  know  on." 
14 


STORM-SWEPT. 


"  Yes,  you  hev  too ;  you've  been  all  the  cause  of 
the  silence  there's  been  between  us  for  ever  so 
many  years." 

"  How  in  all  time  do  you  make  that  out,  I'd 
like  to  know  ?" 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  yer,  lively  !  I  was  just  a  wantin' 
a  piece  of  tissue  paper  to  trace  a  pattern  outen  a 
magazine  with,  and  just  came  back  here  to  hunt 
for  a  piece  and  found  it.  Then  I  turned  round 
ter  get  down  and  spied  a  little  piece  of  paper 
sticken  out  from  the  bottom  edge  of  that  drawer 
there,  and  so  I  pulled  it  out ;  and  lo  !  and  behold, 
it's  my  letter  I  wrote  to  Eunice  Stiles  sixteen 
years  ago  or  more." 

"  Wall,  that  dus  beat  the  bugs,"  drawled 
Jared. 

The  indignant  woman  was  poised  on  the  wood- 
bottomed  chair,  one  hand  resting  on  her  hip  and 
the  other  holding  at  arm's  length  a  dusty  yellow 
envelope. 

"  Look  at  it  and  see  for  yourself,"  ejaculated  the 
irate  Hester.  "  If  you  don't  'tend  to  other  folks' 
mail  matter  no  better  than  you  'tend  to  mine,  it's 
a  wonder  to  all  goodness  they  don't  take  the  post- 
office  away  from  you  ;  "  and  she  bounced  off 
the  chair,  and  up  the  stairs,  nor  stopped  until 


AN  EPISODE  A  T  ROSE  CLIFF. 


she  was  ready  to  begin  a  letter  to  her  sister 
Eunice. 

"  She  allus  was  kinder  touchy  that  way,"  Mrs. 
Cooper  said  to  herself  ;  "  and  to  think  how  as  I 
had  been  a  laying  it  up  to  her  door  all  these  years 
alongback.  She  might  be  dead  and  buried  by 
this  time,  but  I'll  write  anyhow." 

Sputter — sizz — splash — sizz — went  the  tea- 
kettle boiling  over.  Hester  hastened  to  set  it 
aside. 

"  Land  sakes,  its  five  o'clock  and  no  tea  a 
goin'  yit !  "  So  the  teapot  was  brought  out,  the 
pattern  was  thought  of  and  traced,  and  the  letter 
was  not  written.  If  there  is  anything  in  the 
magnetism  of  thought,  perhaps  this  was  the  reason 
why  in  a  distant  city  at  that  moment  Eunice 
Stiles  sat  by  her  south  kitchen  window  looking 
out  into  space,  seeing  nothing  of  the  landscape, 
her  mind  wholly  intent  on  the  sister  who  lived 
over  and  beyond  the  blue  line  of  hills.  There 
was  no  one  now  but  Reginald  and  Mrs.  Dean,  and 
Aunt  Eunice,  in  the  house  on  Myrtle  Avenue  ; 
and  the  latter  was  revolving  a  scheme  in  her  mind. 
After  tea,  when  the  lamps  were  lighted,  and  the 
invalid  had  been  carefully  attended  to.  Mr.  Dean 
and  Aunt  Eunice  sat  before  the  open  gratj. 


STORM-SWEPT. 


"  Reginald,  has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that  a 
change  would  do  Ethel  good  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  thought  so  often  of  late.  Can 
you  suggest  anything?" 

"Can  you  come  to  no  conclusion?" 

"None!" 

"  I  have  been  thinking  that  I  am  getting  along 
in  years,  and  a  little  while  near  the  old  home 
might  take  away  this  loneliness  that  creeps  over 
me  so  often  lately." 

"  What  is  your  plan  ?  " 

"  Could  we  go  for  the  summer,  at  least,  to 
Westbridge  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  and  the  change  may  do  Ethel  good, 
too.  I  will  take  a  run  up  to  Dr.  Strong's,  and  see 
what  I  can  do  to  find  a  comfortable  place  for 
you." 

As  a  result  of  the  foregoing  conversation,  a 
pleasant  roomy  cottage  between  Fairbury  and 
Westbridge  was  made  ready  for  occupancy,  and 
another  month  found  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dean  and 
Eunice  Stiles  settling  down  for  a  quiet  summer 
at  Rose  Cliff.  The  same  tangle  of  vines  grew 
about  the  door  as  grew  there  years  ago,  when 
Mrs.  Sharon  and  Katie  had  spent  many  weary 
weeks  there  ;  but  under  the  careful  management 


AN  EPISODE  A  T  ROSE  CLIFF.  213 

of  Matt,  Dr.  Strong's  indispensable  man,  the 
grounds  about  had  been  made  to  present  a  very 
home-like  appearance ;  but  on  account  of  a  spe- 
cial request  from  Aunt  Eunice,  the  tangle  of  wild 
roses  growing  about  the  edge  and  down  the  face 
of  the  rock,  which  had  suggested  the  name  of 
the  place,  was  left  unmolested,  and  grew  on  in 
its  own  wild  fashion,  making  a  far  more  pretty 
adornment  than  could  a  master  gardener's  hand. 
Sister  Hester  had  been  over  and  had  done  with 
a  sturdy  good  will  all  that  she  could  to  make 
amends  for  the  long  silence  caused  by  Jared's 
carelessness.' 

"  Just  think,  it's  as  long  ago  as — as — why — as 
when  Mis'  Argyle  adopted  Nellie.  I  mentioned 
it  in  that  letter  you  never  got — and  that  was  four- 
teen years  ago  and  more." 

"  They  have  been  very  quiet  years — very  little 
in  them  to  cause  remembrance  of  days  or  dates 
to  be  stored  away." 

"  Well,  now  you're  here  for  the  summer,  you 
must  git  acquainted  with  Mis'  Argyle  and  Nellie. 
They're  as  nice  folks  as  any  hereabouts,  exceptin' 
the  doctor  and  his  wife.  But  Mis'  Argyle  is  real 
homey  and  you'll  allus  feel  as  if  you  wisht  she'd 
a-stayed  a  spell  longer.  But  fer  pity's  sake, 


2 1 4  STORAf-S  WEPT. 

Eunice,  if  yer  see  that  Sabra  Allen  a-comin',  bar 
the  door — fer  she's  worse  than  the  itch  ! 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  all  I  say  is,  if  you  don't  want  your  busi- 
ness peddled  from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  don't  men- 
tion it  to  her." 

"  Don't  worry  on  that  score,  Hester.  I've  kept 
my  own  council  too  many  years  to  be  carried  by 
storm." 

"  She's  dretful  palaverin'  and  honey-mouthed, 
but  she  will  draw  you  out,  and  you  can't  help 
yourself  unless  you're  uncommon  sharp  ;  and  then 
she'll  outwit  you  or  comer  you,  and  you'll  have 
to  tell  her  the  truth,  or  else  an  out-an'-out  lie." 

"  Well,  wait  till  she  comes,  Hester,  and  I'll 
warrant  you  I'll  make  out." 

"  H'm  !  well,  she's  a  comin'  now;  I  felt  it  in 
my  bones,  I  allus  do  when  that  iron-weed's  around. 
Fer  land's  sake,  don't  mention  Argyles',  fer  she's 
allus  ready  ter  haul  'em  ter  town  and  back  again." 

There  came  a  quick  rap  at  the  door,  and  a  turn- 
ing of  the  handle  as  though  the  new  comer  was 
used  to  "dropping  in."  But  Aunt  Eunice  was 
there  to  admit  the  visitor.  She  met  her  with  a 
reserved  air,  which  caused  Mrs.  Allen  to  mentally 
ejaculate,  "  Stuck  up ! "  but  her  face  was  all 


AN  EPISODE  AT  ROSE  CLIFF.  215 


eagerness.  She  had  come  a-hunting.  Hester 
Cooper  turned  from  the  window  which  she  was 
polishing,  till  it  shone  like  a  mirror.  "  Good- 
mornin',  Mis'  Allen,  you're  out  early  makin' 
calls  it  seems.  My  sister,  Miss  Stiles,  Mis' 
Allen  ;  "  and  she  turned  back  to  give  the  window 
an  extra  touch.  She  was  irritated  because  this 
woman  had  forced  herself  upon  them  in  this  man- 
ner, but  it  was  "  her  way,"  and  she  long  ago 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  had  a  perfect 
right  to  do  so,  considering  herself  a  privileged 
personage.  Saints  preserve  us  from  such  ;  for 
they  crop  out  the  world  over,  these  dogs  that  go 
about  forever  carrying  and  fetching  bones.  She 
had  a  fresh  morsel  this  morning. 

"  Glad  you've  come  to  sojourn  amongst  us, 
Miss  Stiles.  Hope  you'll  like  it  here — most  every 
one  does.  There's  another  new-comer  in  town, 
too,  I  hear." 

"  Who  ?  "  inquired  Hester,  herself  caught  by 
the  bait. 

"  Why,  a  young  woman  up  to  Argyle's."  Some- 
body that  used  to  work  in  the  school  where  Nellie 
went.  She's  lost  her  mother  lately  and  Nellie's 
took  her  home.  They'll  need  to  start  a  foundlin' 
asylum  next  I  guess — "  this  last  added  with  a 


216  STORM-SWEPT. 


queer  twist  of  the  mouth  and  squint  of  the  eyes, 
peculiar  to  this  peculiar  woman.  Aunt  Eunice 
said  nothing,  and  Hester  did  likewise.  She  wasn't 
going  to  get  caught  in  any  more  traps. 

"Yes,"  Sabra  finally  continued,  "  they  do  say 
this  girl  thinks  a  sight  of  Nellie." 

"  How  is  your  family,  Mrs.  Allen?"  ventured 
Aunt  Eunice,  to  change  the  subject. 

"  Oh,  middlin',  Geoffrey,  he's  drove  to  death 
with  hayin'  and  all,  and  the  garden  weeds  is 
showin'  up  pretty  well." 

"  Do  you  help  him  care  for  his  garden  ?  " 

"  Mercy,  no  !  I  hain't  got  time.  Takes  me  all 
my  time  to  tend  to  my  own  affairs." 

"  Good  laws  !  "  groaned  Hester. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Mis'  Cooper  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothin',  only  this  winder  sticks  with  the 
new  paint." 

"  Wall,  it  dus  look  like  another  place  sence  you 
people  put  a  hand  to  it.  I  allus  said  it  ud  be 
pretty  if  'twas  fixed  up,  and  so  it  is.  Ain't  no- 
body else  to  hum  ?  I  don't  hear  nobody  stirrin'. 
Didn't  know  but  I  could  drop  in  a  few  minutes 
and  make  a  change  for  the  invalid.  I  hear  you're 
takin'  care  of  one,  Miss  Stiles." 

"  Mrs.  Dean  does  not  enjoy  the  best  of  health, 


AN  EPISODE  A  T  ROSE  CLIFF. 


217 


that  is  true,  but  she  is  not  at  home  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  Oh,"  and  how  disappointed  she  was,  for  she 
meant  to  carry  a  full  description  to  Mrs.  Pritchard 
that  afternoon.  "  Has  she  gone  out  ridin'  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  calling,  I  believe." 

"  Oh  !  "  disappointed  again.  She  would  have 
to  try  once  more  later  on. 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  Nellie  Argyle,  Miss 
Stiles  ?  " 

"  No,  not  yet  ;  "  said  Aunt  Eunice. 

"  She's  a  good-looking  little  maid,  but  too  airy 
and  touchy  for  anything.  She's  got  awful  high 
notions,  if  she  ain't  only  adopted,  and  might  have 
blue  blood  in  her  veins  by  her  actions,  though 
where  she  was  got  nobody  knows." 

"  Indeed,"  said  one  of  her  listeners.  The  other 
was  ready  to  burst.  She  was  filling  up  so  inside, 
that  she  thought  she  could  not  hold  in  another 
moment.  The  next  volley  struck  the  magazine. 

"  Yes,  there  wa'n't  no  one  in  the  village  good 
enough  for  her,  so  she  had  to  get  some  good- 
looking  chap  from  the  college,  and  now  he's  gone 
to  parts  unknown,  and  she's  tryin'  to  rope  in  the 
Doctor's  son ;  though  I  have  seen  her  takin' 
walks  with  Leon  Thorpe,  and  little  Geoff  see  her 


2 1 8  ^  TOKM-S  WEPT. 

one  Sunday  a  sittin'  up  in  the  Seven  Giants  with 
him,  both  a  readin'  a  letter.  It  was  from  furrin 
parts,  I  know,  cause  little  Geoff  he  crept  near 
enough  to  listen  :  but  land,  the  young'n  couldn't 
tell  nothin'  'bout  big  words  and  names  of  things 
that  was  in  the  letter.  She  was  most  a  cryin' 
though,  and  he  awful  sober  like  ;  so  something's 
to  pay,  Lord  knows  what." 

The  explosion  came.  Hester's  face  grew  a 
purple  tinge,  then  the  blood  receded,  leaving  her 
as  white  as  her  tanned  skin  would  allow.  She 
stopped  with  the  polishing  chamois  in  one 
hand,  the  other  raised  as  though  warding  off  a 
blow. 

"  Sabra  Allen,  you've  said  enough.  How  the 
Lord  .ever  lets  you  live  to  say  such  mean  contem- 
ptible things  about  that  dear  child,  I  don't  know. 
If  I  was  in  His  place,  I  wouldn't  have  you  black- 
enin'  the  face  of  the  earth  any  longer.  She  try- 
in'  to  rope  in  the  Doctor's  son  !  Why,  any  one 
with  half  an  eye  can  see  he's  dead  set  on  her  ;  but 
keeps  a  respectful  distance  on  account  of  that 
other  one  that's  gone  away.  For  my  part  I'd 
like  to  see  the  Doctor's  son  get  her.  To  my  mind 
they're  just  suited,  and  it  would  be  back  of  my 
time  since  Westbridge  turned  out  as  good  a  look- 


AN  EPISODE  A  T  ROSE  CLIFF.  219 


ing  couple.  As  for  Leon  Thorpe,  that  girl  in 
Europe  took  his  heart  with  her,  and  it'll  never 
come  back  till  she  brings  it.  Nellie  and  Leon  are 
good  friends,  and  I  say  away  with  any  one  who 
speaks  ill  of  either  of  them.  I'd  trust  the  whole 
three  of  'em  anywhere,  but  I  wouldn't  trust  an 
Allen  in  this  town,  as  far  as  I  could  throw  a  cow 
by  the  tail.  As  for  that  letter, — that  was  their 
own  business  probably  ;  and  I'd  whip,  within  an 
inch  of  their  life,  any  young  one  of  mine,  if  I  had 
any,  who'd  be  so  sneakin'  mean  as  to  go  alistenin' 
and  a  tattlin'  other  people's  private  business.  I 
ain't  np  believer  in  wrong  doin's,  but  when  people 
gits  to  makin'  mountains  out  of  mole-hills,  and 
insinuatin'  against  pure-minded,  straightforward 
young  people,  or  old  ones  either  for  that  matter, 
Hester  Cooper  ain't  the  one  to  stand  by  and 
listen  without  liftin'  her  voice  against  it." 

Mrs.  Allen  sat  perfectly  still  on  her  chair.  She 
was  almost  annihilated  by  this  outburst.  She 
did  not  know  what  to  say  for  herself,  but  man- 
aged to  reiterate  : 

"  Well,  I  didn't  mean  no  harm  and  you  needn't 
get  so  excited,  Mis'  Cooper  ;  but  I  do  think  its 
kinder  imprudent  fer  her  to  be  playin'  fast  and 
loose  with  such  nice  young  men  as  Ralph  Strong 


STORM-SWEPT. 


and  Leon  Thorpe  ;  and  she  a  nobody,  when  there's 
Florence  Pritchard,  and  a  good  many  more  just 
as  good,  and  may  be  better  than  she  is." 

"  Sabra  Allen,  put  your  hand  on  your  mouth 
and  your  mouth  in  the  dust.  You  ain't  any  more 
fit  to  be  passin'  judgment  on  them  young  folks, 
than  you  are  to  be  a  preacher  ;  and  I'm  certain 
sure  you'll  have  to  go  up  a  good  many  steps  of 
the  ladder  before  you're  fit  to  sit  at  the  same 
table  with  Nellie  Argyle.  As  fer  playin'  fast  and 
loose,  that's  an  out  an'  out  lie,  and  speakin'  of 
Florence  Pritchard,  she  ain't  to  be  mentioned  in 
the  same  day  with  Nellie.  I  ain't  no  backbiter, 
but  I  won't  have  her  held  up  over  Nellie,  when 
she  ain't  a  bit  deservin' ;  and  you've  come  to  the 
wrong  place  to  run  down  folks,  and  you  oughter 
known  that  before  now." 

Miss  Stiles  arose  and  stood  by  Hester.  Her 
voice  was  low  and  distinct  as  she  said,  "  I  agree 
with  Sister  Hester  perfectly.  I  wish  to  hear  only 
good  of  those  with  whom  I  come  in  contact,  un- 
less obliged  to  do  otherwise,  as  I  have  been  this 
morning.  My  home  has  never  been  a  trunk  line 
for  the  sewerage  of  tongues,  nor  will  it  ever  be. 
Good-morning,  Mrs.  Allen,  and  remember  what- 
ever you  say  of  us,  tell  the  whole  truth,  for  one 


AN  EPISODE  A  T  ROSE  CLIFF. 


side  of  a  story  is  always  good  until  the  other  is 
told." 

Sabra  took  her  departure  without  another  word. 
She  was  thoroughly  nonplused. 

"  She's  gone  and  I'm  glad  if  I  have  made  her 
mad.  She's  the  worst  backbiter  in  the  known 
world,  and  I  wonder  she's  let  to  live." 

"  Well,  Hester,  you  did  give  her  a  dressing 
down,  but  I  think  she  needed  it.  The  idea  of 
her  coming  here  to  me,  a  stranger,  to  air  her  un- 
pleasant ideas  about  people  I  don't  know,  and 
perhaps  never  shall  know." 

"  But  I  hope  you  will  get  real  well  acquainted 
with  them,  for  they're  as  nice  people  as  there  are 
in  Westbridge  or  Fairbury  either." 

"  What  about  this  adopted  girl  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she's  every  inch  a  lady  ;  and  that's  what 
Mis'  Allen  and  Mis'  Pritchard  can't  stand.  *  The 
Argyles  ain't  nowhere  near  their  stamp." 

"  But  this  Nellie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  got  her  in  an  asylum  when  she  was  a 
little  tot,  and  they've  brung  her  up  like  their  own. 
She  didn't  know  she  was  adopted  till  she  found  it 
out  through  the  chattering  of  those  two  magpies." 

"  How  about  this  lover  who  is  abroad  ?  " 

"  Oh,  for  him  I  don't  care  very  much.     I  think 


STORM-SWEPT. 


he  was  taken  with  her  odd,  yet  spicy  ways,  but  I 
hardly  think  anything  will  come  of  it.  From  the 
way  she  blushes  when  Ralph  Strong  appears,  I 
think  her  heart  is  in  Westbridge  yet." 

"  And  Ralph  Strong  is  one  of  Mr.  Dean's  boys." 

"  Exactly." 

"  Well,  there's  plenty  of  chance  for  things  to 
work  out  right  yet." 

"  Yes,  if  that  old  besom  don't  do  too  much 
meddlin'." 

"  You  spoke  of  some  girl  Leon  Thorpe  had  an 
eye  on." 

"  Oh,  Olga  Mitchell.  She  was  a  perfect  fairy. 
Her  father  was  minister  here  for  several  years. 
They're  pretty  well  off,  and  do  considerable 
travellin'.  She's  with  them  now  abroad.  Nellie 
and  Olga  were  fast  friends,  and  I'll  bet  anything 
that  letter  was  from  Olga.  She  is  light-haired, 
and  Nellie  dark  ;  but  they  were  both  little  ladies, 
and  used  to  set  a  sight  of  store  by  each  other." 

Mrs.  Allen  went  from  there  to  Mrs.  Pritchard's 
and  opened  her  heart.  Their  joint  conclusion 
was  that  Miss  Stiles  was  a  grain  too  airy,  and 
Hester  Cooper  had  better  mind  her  own  affairs  ; 
thus  expecting  more  of  Hester  than  they  were 
capable  of  doing  themselves. 


THE  BARON'S  HEIR.  223 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  BARON'S  HEIR. 

:  My  hands,  my  limbs  grow  nerveless  ; 
My  brain  feels  racked,  bewildered  ; 
Let  the  old  timbers  part." 


T  was  a  dark  and  dismal  night,  with  a 
wild  storm  raging.  High  up  the  moun- 
tain-side among  weather-worn  crags 
and  overlooking  wide-spreading  moors 
stood  the  castle  of  Armadale,  a  gaunt,  gray, 
rumbling  relic  of  ancient  feudal  times.  It  seemed 
more  fit  for  a  rookery  for  bats  and  owls, than  a 
human  habitation.  Its  eeriness  was  still  more  en- 
hanced by  the  rattling  of  sleet  against  the  small 
panes  of  the  deep-set  windows ;  while  the  search- 
ing blast  shrieked  and  moaned  despairingly  among 
the  jagged  cliffs.  Inky  darkness  reigned  supreme. 
Within  the  castle  a  strange  quiet  rested  over  all. 
A  man,  in  the  garb  of  a  nurse,  threw  open  a  small 
window  and  peered  out  into  the  night,  but  a  sheet 
of  sleet  and  rain  met  him  full  in  the  face,  causing 


224  STORM-SWEPT. 


him  to  hastily  close  the  window  and  step  back 
into  the  dimly-lighted  room.  In  one  corner  stood 
a  huge,  canopied  bedstead.  A  movement  in  that 
direction  arrested  his  attention,  and  in  an  instant 
he  was  bending  over  a  prostrate  form,  and  holding 
aloft  a  lighted  wax  candle,  as  he  gazed  anxiously 
into  the  shrunken  visage  of  an  aged  man. 

"  What  is  it,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  Has  he  come  ?  "   was  the  whispered  response. 

"  Not  yet,  my  lord." 

"  I  fear  he  will  arrive  too  late." 

Brandon  turned  to  the  table  \vhere  stood  an 
array  of  medicine-bottles,  and  preparing  a  strength- 
ening mixture,  administered  it  to  the  patient. 
Meanwhile,  dashing  over  the  rough  country  roads, 
now  encountering  rocky  stretches,  and  again  sunk 
nearly  to  the  saddle-girth  in  mud,  were  two  horse- 
men. Had  the  animals  not  been  familiar  with 
the  way,  their  riders  would  have  had  a  poor 
chance  of  reaching  their  destination ;  but,  sure- 
footed and  faithful,  the  horses  bore  their  riders 
safely  up  the  steep  ascent  even  to  the  drawbridge 
of  the  castle.  The  portcullis  was  raised,  and  our 
horsemen  rode  into  the  dimly  lighted  hallway.  A 
hostler  stood  ready  to  take  their  foaming  steeds, 
while  another  man-servant  removed  their  sleet- 


THE  BARON'S  HEIR.  225 

encrusted  garments,  and  conducted  them  to  com- 
fortable quarters.  The  elder  man  who  had  acted 
as  guide  addressed  the  younger. 

"  Sir,  we  had  better  ascend  at  once  to  the  sick- 
chamber.  Sir  Basil  is  sinking  rapidly." 

A  servant  with  a  flickering  taper  led  the  way. 
They  passed  over  stone  floors,  through  halls 
with  heavy  oaken-panelled  walls,  till  the  guide 
paused  before  a  massive  door.  One  rap  brought 
the  nurse  who  quickly  admitted  them. 

"  I  have  just  administered  a  little  brandy,  and  he 
has  rallied  slightly.  I  feared  you  would  be  too 
late."  He  preceded  the  men  as  they  approached 
the  sufferer. 

Bending  low  over  the  feeble  old  man,  Brandon 
said,  "  He  is  coming,  my  lord,  shall  you  be  able 
to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes,"  whispered  the  baron,  "  how  soon 
will  he  be  here  ?  " 

"  Even  now,  my  lord." 

The  nurse  stepped  aside,  and  Clyde  Delamere 
laid  his  hand  on  that  of  the  old  man,  which  was 
even  then  purpling  with  the  chill  of  death.  A 
shudder  ran  through  his  veins, — he  had  never  be- 
fore been  in  the  presence  of  the  last  reaper. 

"  Bend  lower,"  the  old  man  whispered,  as  he 
15 


226  STORM-SWEPT. 


used  his  feeble  strength  to  draw  the  young  man 
nearer  his  withered,  ashen-hued  face. 

Clyde  did  as  requested.  Speech  had  deserted 
him  for  the  instant. 

"  The  light,  Brandon,"  from  the  dying  baron. 

The  nurse  held  the  candle  so  its  feeble  rays 
shone  full  on  the  young  man's  countenance. 

"You  are  very  like  your  father,  lad." 

"  I  am  pleased  to  hear  you  say  that,  Uncle." 

"  I  have  not  long  to  live,  yet  there  is  much  I 
would  say,  if  I  only  could." 

"  You,  Brandon, — Doctor, — come  near  and 
listen  to  what  I  have  to  say.  Albany,  lad ;  let 
me  call  you  so,  it  was  your  father's  name.  I 
loved  your  mother,  but  she  chose  my  brother, 
aye,  a  poor  younger  son,  in  preference  to  me,  a 
prospective  baron,  with  a  landed  estate.  I  could 
not  bear  to  see  them  in  their  happiness,  and  after 
their  marriage  neither  ever  entered  these  castle 
doors,  which,  since  that  day,  when  he  took  all 
the  sunshine  out  of  my  life,  have  ever  been  closed 
to  woman.  I  am  a  lonely  old  man,  having  lived 
here  year  after  year  on  the  memory  of  the  love  I 
bore  your  mother.  You  are  my  next  of  kin.  To 
you  I  leave  the  estate  and  baronial  crest  of  Arma- 
dale.  You,  lad,  will  be  Sir  Albany ;  it  is  my  lat- 


THE  BARON'S  HEIR. 


227 


est  wish  that  you  bear  your  father's  name ;  and 
may  it  bring  you  more  happiness  than  I  have 
known." 

He  paused  exhausted.  Brandon  gave  him  an- 
other draught,  and  after  a  moment  he  whispered, 
"  The  Dragon  of  Armadale,  your  father  had  it." 

"  I  have  it  here,  my  lord,"  and  he  placed  in 
the  clammy  hand  that  quaint  ring  with  the  dragon 
engraved  upon  it. 

"  Yes,  that  is  it.  I  should  know  it  by  the  feel- 
ing of  it,  if  I  found  it  in  the  Catacombs.  That 
will  be  of  as  much  use  to  you  as  a  letter  of  credit, 
lad,  that  and  your  title  go  hand  in  hand.  What, 
are  you  leaving  me,  lad  ?  Don't  desert  the  poor 
old  man  at  the  last  moment — I  shall  be  gone 
soon — ah — I  cannot  see  you — what — ah,  Mir- 
iam ! " 

The  poor  old  face  was  transformed  for  an  in- 
stant. Hope,  love,  joy,  all  stood  revealed  as  by 
a  gleam  of  heavenly  light.  Clyde  bowed  his 
head  as  the  old  Baron  breathed  his  mother's  name. 
When  he  raised  his  eyes  to  look  upon  the  suf- 
erer — he  was  not  there.  The  gaunt  destroyer 
had  claimed  his  own.  When  his  presence  was 
no  longer  needed,  Sir  Albany  retired  to  the 
apartment  assigned  him.  Although  wearied  and 


228  STORM-SWEPT. 


travel-worn  he  could  not  sleep.  Until  far  into 
the  night  the  storm  continued  unabated,  the 
wind's  weird  shrieks  and  moans  being  sufficient 
to  drive  sleep  from  the  brain  of  one  less  excited 
than  was  our  young  traveller. 

Much  had  occurred  in  a  short  time.  First  came 
the  intelligence  to  this  college  youth  preparing 
for  the  bar,  that  a  distant  relative  was  ill ;  next 
an  imperative  summons  to  proceed  at  once  to  the 
sick  man's  bedside  ;  and  then  the  knowledge  that 
this  man,  a  peer,  was  letting  his  mantle  fall  upon 
the  shoulders  of  this  aspiring  young  man.  He 
was  not  quite  thoroughly  enough  American  to 
laugh  at  titles ;  and,  had  he  been,  the  title  was 
his  just  the  same.  Sir  Albany,  Baron  of  Arma- 
dale  ;  what  a  title  to  lay  at  the  feet  of  that  little 
girl  over  there  among  the  hills  of  New  England  ! 
Sleep  came  at  length  to  the  weary  eyelids  as 
the  storm  lulled  and  died  away.  Morning  ap- 
proached, and  had  spread  her  rosy  mantle  over  the 
eastern  sky  several  hours  before  Sir  Albany  arose 
and  gazed  out  over  the  strange  landscape 

Have  you  never  been  suddenly  called  away  to 
spend  the  night,  and  experienced  that  strange 
fereling  which  comes  over  one  as  he  arises  from 
sleep  and  looks  out  upon  a  landscape  which  has 


THE  BARON'S  HEIR.  229 

never  before  met  his  gaze  ?  If  you  have,  then 
you  know  with  what  mingled  feelings  Sir  Albany 
stood  looking  out  upon  that  dazzling  landscape, 
over  which  the  sun  shone  brightly,  as  though 
endeavoring  to  atone  for  the  general  disturbance 
created  by  the  elements  the  night  before. 

All  of  Clyde's  boyhood  days  had  been  spent 
among  the  hills  and  vales  of  the  Eastern  States, 
with  their  long  mountain  ranges,  and  wide  reaches 
of  meadow-land,  where,  in  the  fall,  bloomed  sun- 
clad  golden-rod,  and  asters  fair  to  look  upon. 
Here,  as  he  gazed  from  the  narrow  stone-bound 
window  .which  swung  open  like  a  door,  he  beheld 
a  scene  of  rugged  grandeur  such  as  untraveled 
eyes  could  appreciate  to  the  fullest  extent.  Below 
the  grass-cushioned  weather-beaten  crags,  lay  the 
downs  with  purpling  heather  in  that  soul-inspiring 
light  of  the  morning  sun  ;  while  away  in  the  hazy 
distance,  rising  from  a  sea  of  green  and  gold,  and 
outlined  against  the  roseate  sky  beyond,  loomed 
the  ruined  walls  of  an  ancient  abbey.  In  very 
truth  this  must  be  the  old  Mother  Country,  for 
all  the  surroundings  bespoke  an  age  of  centuries. 
And  all  these  broad  acres  of  grassy  downs,  and 
heath-grown  moors,  belonged  to  the  Baron  of 
Armadale.  Surely,  truth  is  stranger  than  fiction. 


230  STORM-SWEPT. 


How  would  his  lady  mother  have  looked  upon  his 
exaltation  ?  Would  she  have  been  pleased  to 
have  seen  him  in  the  place  his  father  would  have 
filled  had  he  lived  till  no\v  ? 

In  all  probability  she  would  for  the  "pure  blue 
Scotch  bluid  "  which  ran  in  her  son's  veins,  had 
been  to  her  a  source  of  great  pride.  He  knew 
he  had  titled  relatives,  though  his  mother  had 
taught  him  never  to  anticipate  any  renewing  of 
ties ;  but  it  had  all  come  upon  him  like  a  blare 
of  trumpets  and  blazon  of  arms ;  and  more  or 
less  mental  confusion  followed. 

Like  most  men  born  on  American  soil,  he  had 
not  as  much  respect  for  an  inherited  title  as  for 
a  well-earned  professional  one  ;  such  as  is  free  to 
all  men  of  learning  and  well-balanced  brains.  But 
it  makes  a  difference  perhaps  whether  one  stands 
afar  off  and  looks  at  the  golden  fruit,  or  whether 
he  loiters  beneath  the  tree,  and  catches  it  as  it 
falls  into  his  willing  grasp.  Sir  Albany, — that  was 
his  father's  name,  and  his  own  baptismal  middle 
name.  The  deceased  baron  had  signified  it  as  his 
chief  desire  that  Clyde  should  assume  that  name, 
and  fortunately,  from  an  American  view,  he  had 
a  perfect  right  to  do  so.  What  would  his  college 
mates  say, — and  little  Nell, — for  of  course  it 


THE  BARON'S  HEIR.  231 


would  get  into  the  papers.  They  never  missed 
such  little  bits  of  information. 

Again  his  thoughts  turned  in  another  direction. 
Was  Nellie  just  the  style  for  the  wife  of  a  Baron  ? 
What  if  her  ladyship  were  a  blonde,  such  as  that 
beautiful  girl  at  Madame  Catlin's  Seminary  !  She 
would  make  a  charming  Baroness, — my,  wouldn't 
she  take  the  people  by  storm  !  But  he  did  not 
know  the  Scotch  people.  He  had  not  yet  learned 
that  if  he  should  wed  a  homely  Scotch  bride,  she 
would  be  three  times  as  welcome  as  the  most  beau- 
tiful American  he  could  import.  But  all  this  time 
the  links  in  the  chain  were  almost  ready  to  be 
clinched  together.  Not  twenty  miles  away,  in 
that  charming  Highland  country,  at  a  retired  inn 
on  the  banks  of  the  storied  Tweed,  were  the 
father  and  mother  of  that  bonnie  blonde  American 
girl. 

Weeks  passed^on.  Sir  Basil  had  been  placed 
at  rest  among  his  ancestors  in  the  graveyard 
adjoining  the  crumbling  ivy-grown  abbey.  The 
tenantry  were  becoming  accustomed  to  the  young 
laird,  with  his  abrupt  Yankee  speech,  :  r.d  genial 
air,  that  savored  not  one  whit  of  condescension  ; 
and  as  the  weeks  wore  into  months,  the  Scotch 
lassies  began  to  wonder  if  the  young  laird  wouldna' 


232  STORM-SWEPT. 


soon  marry.  He  could  have  had  his  pick  of  a 
score  of  North  Country  girls,  and  invitations 
without  number  came  with  requests  for  his  pres- 
ence at  this  thing  and  that,  that  was  going  on 
among  the  gentry  round  about.  Yet  he  still 
wandered  fancy  free,  to  all  appearance  ;  and  en- 
joyed the  hunting  and  shooting  to  his  heart's 
content. 


HOPE  CRUSHED   TO  EARTH. 


233 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

HOPE   CRUSHED   TO   EARTH. 

"  Fare  thee  well  !  and  if  forever, 
Still  forever,  fare  thee  well!  " 


NE  Saturday,  when  the  first  June  roses 
were  breathing  their  fragrance,  there 
came  to  the  Fairbury  post  office  a  letter 
bearing  many  foreign  postmarks.  It 
was  addressed  to  Miss  Ellen  Douglas  Argyle  ;  but 
Jared  gave  it  the  closest  scrutiny  hoping  to  get 
an  inkling  of  its  contents  through  the  thin  rice- 
paper  envelope,  but  with  no  avail.  In  fact  he 
had  not  ceased  his  examination,  when  Nellie  her- 
self came  in. 

"  Is  there  any  mail  for  us,  Mr.  Cooper  ?  " 
"  Yes,  a  furrin  one.     They  don't  appear  'round 
here  very  often  nowadays." 

Nellie  blushed,  but  said  nothing  as  she  took  the 
welcome  letter  and  sauntered  down  the  road. 
She  was  provoked  at  the  postmaster  for  his  hate- 
ful speech.  When  she  got  out  of  sight  of  the 


234  STORM-SWEPT. 


office,  she  would  read  the  letter.  It  was  from 
Olga,  anyway,  she  knew  by  the  handwriting. 
Yes,  it  had  been  penned  under  the  cloudless  sky 
of  storied  Florence ;  within  sight  of  the  Pitti 
Palace  and  the  Uffizi  Gallery,  where  Olga  had 
spent  hours  of  earnest  work.  Nellie  had  climbed 
the  stony  road,  and  had  reached  the  broad  avenue, 
with  its  rows  of  stately  maples.  She  could  now 
read  her  letter  in  peace. 

"  FLORENCE,  May,  18 — 
"  DEAR  NELLIE  :— 

How  I  long  to  be  with  you  just  for  one  hour, 
if  no  longer,  and  unburden  my  soul  to  you.  Now 
don't  start  in  horror,  and  imagine  I  have  been 
doing  anything  so  terribly  wrong,  for  I  assure  you 
it  is  nothing  worse  than  falling  in  love.  Now  you 
are  laughing  at  me  I  know,  for  I  am  certain  your 
sedate  little  head  never  bothers  itself  over  the 
sterner  sex ;  but  I  assure  you  I  have  a  very 
severe  attack  of  the  malady  called  love.  I  can 
talk  to  you  about  it  from  here,  though,  and  very 
likely  if  I  were  face  to  face  with  you  I  couldn't 
tell  you  so  plainly,  though  we  did  use  to  have 
some  lovely  confidentials  when  we  were  at 
Madame  Catlin's,  didn't  we,  Nell  ?  But  now  for 
the  hero  of  my  heart.  Handsome  is  no  name 


HOPE  CRUSHED   TO  EARTH.  235 

for  it.  He  is  absolutely  delicious.  If  mamma 
doesn't  take  me  a\vay  from  here  very  soon,  I 
don't  know  but  there  will  be  a  runaway  match. 
He  goes  through  the  gallery  every  day,  and  once 
he  dropped  his  card,  accidentally  of  course  ;  and 
what  do  you  suppose  was  on  it  ?  You  never 
could  guess.  Sir  Albany  Armadale  ;  and  written 
in  pencil  on  the  back  was  the  name  Clyde  Dela- 
mere." 

At  this  point  Nellie  caught  her  breath.  In 
truth,  her  heart  stood  still  for  several  seconds, 
then  she  read  on, 

"  The  next  day  he  lifted  his  hat,  and  the 
next  he  stood  for  fully  fifteen  earthly  minutes 
and  gazed  at  the  painting  I  was  copying.  To 
tell  the  truth,  I  didn't  know  what  to  do  ;  but  one 
so  seldom  meets  acquaintances  over  here  in  this 
musty  old  country  that  I  finally  concluded  I 
would  let  on  that  I  recognized  him,  and  then  it 
was  all  over  with  me.  He  owns  an  enormous 
estate  in  Scotland,  in  fact,  he  is  a  full-fledged 
baron,  and,  by  the  way,  a  very  eligible  catch. 
He  wears  a  beard  now,  which  makes  him  look 
more  handsome  than  ever,  but  he  isn't  quite  as 


236  STORM-SWEPT. 


saucy  as  he  used  to  be.  Now,  don't  be  surprised 
to  hear  of  my  engagement  some  day,  for  he  is 
very  attentive,  and  I  certainly  think  he  is  the 
handsomest  man  I  ever  saw.  I  haven't  told  you 
a  word  of  the  lovely  views  there  are  here  ;  of 
blue  sea,  and  glossy  orange  groves,  and  fields  of 
sweet-faced  pansies.  It  is  a  perfect  lover's  land  ; 
and,  Nellie,  I  am  spending  such  happy  days. 
Somehow  I  feel  as  though  days  could  never  be 
happier,  nor  even  quite  so  happy  again.  Give 
my  love  to  your  mother  and  father,  and  regards 
to  Ralph  and  Leon,  as  well  as  to  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Strong. 

With  oceans  of  love, 

"  OLGA. 

"  Mizpah  !  " 

Nellie  was  in  a  state  of  great  internal  excite- 
ment. Here  was  a  way  out  of  her  difficulty  ; 
one  she  had  never  dreamed  of.  Clyde  had  grown 
cold  toward  her;  Olga's  bright  beauty  had  cap- 
tivated him  ;  what  a  sense  of  rest  and  relief  stole 
over  her  heart.  But — she  could  not  bear  to  think 
that  this  man  who  had  made  love  to  her,  and 
who  had  gained  her  promise  that  she  would  be 
his  wife,  should  so  unceremoniously  turn  to 


HOPE  CRUSHED  TO  EARTH.  237 

making  love  to  Olga,  without  so  much  as  bring- 
ing her  into  consideration.  He  was  false  at  heart 
if  he  could  do  this  thing.  How  did  he  know 
but  that  her  heart  was  breaking  by  his  neglect ; 
for  she  had  heard  nothing  from  him  for  a  long 
time,  and  he  had  never  once  mentioned  the  fact 
of  his  having  been  made  a  baron.  His  love  for 
her  had  been  of  the  ephemeral  kind.  Would  to 
Heaven  he  had  something  better  and  more  pure 
to  offer  Olga. 

Nellie's  eyes  were  opened,  and  she  saw  clearly. 
A  great  burden  had  been  lifted  from  her  shoulders. 
She  walked  with  a  lighter  step  until  she  came  in 
sight  of  the  doctor's  house.  Then,  like  a  flash, 
came  over  her  Leon's  devotion  to  Olga  ;  his  silent 
love  which  she  had  helped  him  to  bear  by  giving 
him  glimpses  of  letters  whenever  she  received 
one.  How  could  she  inflict  the  wound  which  she 
knew  this  letter  would  be  to  him.  There  wasn't 
much  else  in  it,  but  this-  all-absorbing  theme. 
She  couldn't  skip  that  part,  and  pretend  to  read 
the  letter,  that  was  certain.  What  was  to  be 
done?  She  knew  Leon  was  hoping  for  news 
from  that  source,  but  not  news  of  this  kind.  She 
would  wait  until  to-morrow  and  leave  it  with 
all  her  other  troubles  at  the  feet  of  the  great 


238  STORM-SWEPT. 


Burden-Bearer.  And  then  came  thoughts  of 
humiliation.  Leon  would  tell  Ralph,  and  Ralph 
would  pity  her  ;  and  pity  she  could  not  bear. 
Anything  but  that  from  Ralph.  If  she  read 
that  letter  to  Leon,  she  must  suffer  with  him 
in  a  measure  ;  but  he  must  not  tell  Ralph,  not 
for  worlds!  And  the  folks  at  home !  She  was 
in  a  quandary. 

An  hour  ago  everything  was  going  on  as  usual, 
and  now  things  had  turned  on  one  of  life's  hinges. 
A  door  had  been  thrown  open  revealing  another 
life ;  a  life  for  a  time  full  of  perplexities  and  un- 
pleasantnesses. She  could  see  no  way  out,  only 
this,  she  should  not  inform  Olga  of  her  relations 
with  Clyde,  for  if  Olga  really  loved  him  where 
was  the  sense  in  marring  her  happiness?  and  yet 
Clyde's  infidelity  rankled  a  little,  and  she  could 
not  make  it  out  to  be  just  right,  in  justice  to 
Olga,  to  let  it  go  as  it  was.  She  would  see  Leon 
first  at  all  events.  She  did  not  read  the  letter 
again  just  then,  and  when  she  reached  home  it 
was  laid  in  the  little  lavender-scented  drawer 
where  her  foreign  letters  all  found  a  resting  place. 
The  next  morning  Nellie's  rising  thoughts  were  of 
the  letter,  and  of  the  ordeal  which  she  must 
undergo  that  day.  Have  you  ever  spent  a  June 


HOPE  CRUSHED   TO  EARTH. 


239 


Sabbath  in  the  country  ?  Do  you  know  what  it 
is  to  feel  the  all-pervading  solemn  stillness  ?  A 
hallowed  quiet  settles  over  everything.  The  cattle 
seem  less  restless  than  on  a  week  day  ;  while  the 
fowls  assume  a  more  sedate  air,  as  they  serenely 
strut  about  the  yard.  The  breath  of  summer 
breezes,  stirring  in  the  treetops,  seems  more  gen- 
tle ;  while,  over  the  wide  expanse  of  meadows,  the 
bright  sunlight  and  deep  cloud-shadows  fall  alter- 
nately on  billows  of  waving  grass,  bending  with 
harmonious  movement  before  the  fragrance-laden 
breeze. 

She  felt  like  sitting  there  and  drinking  in  the 
solemn  beauty  of  a  Sabbath  morning,  with  its 
warbling  birds,  and  lowing  cattle,  rippling  brooks, 
and  whispering  breezes,  all  seeming  to  join  in  one 
great  anthem  in  praise  of  the  Maker  of  all  crea- 
tion. Do  you  wonder  that  Nellie  drew  very  near 
to  the  Creator,  as  she  felt  the  hallowed  stillness 
of  the  hour,  and  laying  her  head  upon  her  clasped 
hands  she  whispered,  "  O  Lord,  I  thank  thee  for 
thy  goodness,  and  for  thy  watchful  care  over  me. 
Guide  me  through  this  day."  With  that  prayer 
on  her  lips,  she  went  out  to  join  her  mother  and 
father  in  the  herb-scented  kitchen.  They  were  all 
early  risers  on  the  Sabbath,  as  well  as  on  other 


240  STORM-SWEPT. 


days.  The  meals  were  easily  gotten,  in  order  that 
all  might  go  to  church  service  all  day.  They 
walked  to  church  on  this  memorable  morning. 
A  visiting  clergyman  was  there,  and  preached  the 
sermon.  It  was  long  and  dry,  intellectual  and 
comprehensive,  but  not  soul-stirring.  The  chil- 
dren hitched  uneasily  in  their  seats,  rustled  palm- 
leaf  fans,  and  gazed  longingly  at  the  trembling 
branches  of  the  great  maples  which  grew  in  the 
churchyard.  The  heavy  tassels  on  the  pulpit- 
cushion  trembled  beneath  the  decisive  blows  of 
the  preacher's  fist  ;  but  the  sound  was  not  enough 
to  rouse  two  sleepers  who  were  carrying  on  a 
trombone  duet. 

At  length  the  big  Bible  was  closed,  and  the  last 
hymn  sung.  There  was  Leon  in  the  seat  with 
the  rest  of  the  family,  and  Nellie  had  been  think- 
ing more  of  him  than  of  the  sermon.  She  played 
the  organ  in  that  little  church  edifice,  and  conse- 
quently was  one  of  the  last  to  leave  the  building. 
It  was  well  the  hymns  had  been  familiar  ones,  for 
her  thoughts  were  not  on  her  work  that  morning. 
She  kept  revolving  in  her  mind  how  she  could 
best  break  the  news  to  Leon.  For  her  own  sake 
she  was  glad  she  had  received  the  letter.  For 
his  sake  she  was  sorry.  But  the  moments  were 


HOPE  CRUSHED   TO  EARTH.  241 

speeding.  The  people  were  going,  the  postlude 
was  finished.  She  rose  to  go.  Ralph  and  Leon 
were  sauntering  slowly  down  the  aisle.  She 
passed  them  with  a  bow  and  a  smile  to  Ralph, 
and  the  word  "letter"  to  Leon.  He  stepped 
quickly  to  her  side. 

"  When  did  it  come  ?  " 

"  Yesterday  afternoon." 

"  Is  she  well  ?  " 

"  Yes," — hesitatingly — "  and  happy." 

"  That  is  good  news.  Is  she  ever  coming 
back?" 

"  She  doesn't  say." 

"  I  thought  her  two  years  abroad  was  up  now, 
and  she  was  surely  coming  back  then." 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think  she  will  stay  over 
there." 

Leon's  countenance  fell. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  to  tell  you,  Leon,  but — 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  promised  me  I  should  know 
whenever  she  wrote." 

"That  is  it,  Leon.  I  keep  my  promise  at  the 
risk  of  your  happiness." 

"  Have  you  the  letter  with  you  ?  "  His  tone 
was  altered  now.  He  spoke  with  pent-up  feeling. 
16 


242  STORM-SWEPT. 

"  No,  I  will  meet  you  at  the  Seven  Giants  at 
five  this  afternoon." 

"  Must  I  wait  till  then  ?  "  His  tone  was  full  of 
agony. 

"  Don't  feel  badly,  Leon,  perhaps  I  have  mis- 
construed it  a  little.  I  read  it  through  but  once. 
There  was  something  in  it  which  brought  such 
relief  to  me  that  I  couldn't  bear  to  read  it  over, 
content  to  rest  on  what  I  felt  to  be  an  open  way 
before  me.  And  yet,"  she  added,  "  it  means  heart- 
ache for  you." 

"  She  is  not  engaged  to  some  one  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then,  while  there  is  life  there  is  hope,"  he 
added  with  a  ghost  of  a  smile. 

She  left  him  at  the  corner  of  the  street  on 
which  she  lived. 

"  I  will  be  at  the  Seven  Giants  at  five  o'clock 
sharp  ;  "  and,  with  a  heart  full  of  forebodings,  he 
turned  towards  his  home.  Something  was  about 
to  happen.  He  knew  it  as  well  as  he  knew  he 
was  walking  over  the  gravel  walk. 

"  Why  should  the  going  or  coming  of  one 
woman  affect  him  so,"  he  asked  himself. 

From  boyhood,  since  the  Thanksgiving  Day 
during  the  blizzard  when  Dr.  Mitchell  had  taken 


HOPE  CRUSHED   TO  EARTH.  243 

his  father's  place  in  the  crimson-covered  pulpit, 
Leon  Thorpe  had  laid  his  heart  at  the  feet  of 
Olga  Mitchell.  Not  in  words,  but  in  deeds, 
through  the  years  that  had  followed,  he  had 
shown  his  loyalty  to  her  many  times.  He  had 
hoped  much  from  the  few  words  of  promise  he 
had  received  on  that  day  long  ago  when  they 
went  skating  together  ;  and  now  he  .felt  those 
hopes  were  about  to  be  hurled  to  the  ground.  If 
she  had  known  the  value  of  that  true  heart,  she 
would  not  have  cast  it  aside  as  something  not 
worth  having. 

Leon  .Thorpe  had  attained  the  age  of  man- 
hood, he  had  been  graduated  from  college  with 
honors.  His  friends  were  proud  of  him,  and  Olga, 
over  the  sea  at  the  time,  had,  in  one  of  her  letters, 
expressed  a  personal  pride  in  his  advancement, 
which  was  more  than  all  other  compensation  for 
his  years  of  laborious  toil.  Had  it  been  a  flippant 
interest  she  had  shown  in  him  ?  He  would  not 
question,  but  await  the  meeting  at  the  Seven 
Giants. 

The  hours  passed  very  slowly  to  Nellie  as  she 
waited  for  the  pointers  on  the  old-fashioned  clock 
in  the  corner  to  near  the  hour  of  five.  She  sat  in 
the  hammock  on  the  front  porch  and  watched  for 


244  STORM-SWEPT. 


the  shadows  of  the  row  of  maples  to  fall  clear 
across  the  dusty  roadway.  The  birds  sang  their 
sweetest  melodies,  but  every  one  of  them  seemed 
to  keep  repeating,  "  I  am  free,  I  am  free."  What 
a  joyful  note  it  struck  in  her  own  heart !  She 
felt  as  though  anew  life  were  opening,  and  already 
she  was  laying  plans  to  go  intp  effect  in  the  near 
future.  The  sunlight  took  on  a  more  mellow 
tone  ;  the  birds  began  to  cease  their  carols  of  joy. 
The  cows  came  and  stood  at  the  bars  lowing 
gently,  as  the  shadows  of  the  maples  grew  longer, 
and  the  after-glow  of  an  early  summer's  day 
settled  over  the  brow  of  the  beautiful  Hanging 
Hills. 

Nellie  put  on  her  hat  and  threw  a  fluffy  white 
shawl  over  her  shoulders.  She  knew  she  should 
need  it  in  the  shadows  of  the  woodland.  She 
passed  slowly  down  the  worn  but  narrow  path, 
over  the  rail  fence,  and  threaded  her  way  among 
the  wild-turnip  and  grass  bunches  that  grew  at  the 
brookside.  Then  she  came  to  the  crossing,  and, 
lifting  her  skirts,  stepped  daintily  from  one  wet 
stone  to  another,  unless  she  stood  rh  the  path  on 
the  other  side.  In  a  few  moments  she  was  in 
sight  of  the  cluster  of  large  oak  trees  which  had 
been  spared  by  the  woodmen,  who  with  still 


HOPE  CRUSHED  TO  EARTH.  245 

enough  of  the  love  of  nature  in  their  hearts,  for* 
bore  destroying  such  grand  old  monarchs,  each 
measuring  nearly  three  feet  in  diameter.  How 
delightfully  cool  it  was  in  that  secluded  spot ! 
Leon  came  to  meet  her  as  he  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Nellie  through  the  trees. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  very  impatiently." 

"  Have  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  have  been  in  a  state  of  misery  ever 
since  I  saw  you.  I  am  anxious  to  learn  my 
fate." 

"  Let  me  read  you  the  letter,  Leon  ;  and  then 
we  can  draw  our  own  conclusions." 

Leon  helped  Nellie  to  climb  up  over  the  roots 
of  those  forest  monarchs,  and  then  they  seated 
themselves  in  the  hollows  between  the  giant  trunks. 
Nellie  leaned  back  against  the  rough  bark,  while 
Leon  rested  his  head  on  his  hand  and  waited. 
She  opened  the  letter  and  read  in  a  clear  low 
voice.  How  his  heart  was  torn  as  Nellie  read  the 
words  "  nothing  worse  than  falling  in  love."  That 
was  a  very  bad  thing  to  do,  if  one  fell  in  the 
wrong  direction.  He  smiled  at  the  allusion  to 
"  Nellie's  sedate  little  head."  Olga  evidently  had 
never  been  informed  regarding  Nellie's  love-affair, 
which  had  created  quite  a  little  stir  in  the  village. 


246  STORM-SWEPT. 

Olga's  "  severe  attack  of  the  malady  "  brought 
him  back  to  his  own  heartache  again. 

"  But  now  for  the  hero  of  my  heart,"  Nellie 
read.  Oh,  how  he  had  hoped  to  be  that  hero  ! 
How  many  hours  he  had  worked  on  the  hope  of 
gaining  an  education  that  should  enable  him  to 
give  her  such  a  home  as  she  had  been  used  to  ! 
If  she  only  had  verified  the  signs  which  had  been 
evident  in  days  agone,  and  which  this  letter  was 
fast  bringing  him  to  believe  were  purely  evan- 
escent. Alas  for  youthful  delusions  !  Alas  for 
vanished  hopes  ! 

When  she  reached  the  words,  "  You  never 
could  guess,"  she  paused.  Her  heart  rose  and 
fell  with  such  force  she  was  sure  Leon  could 
hear  its  thumpings.  Oh,  the  exultation  with 
which  she  should  be  able  to  say  she  was  free  from 
Clyde. 

"  Go  on  ;  "  Leon  could  not  wait  for  her  to  gain 
her  breath.  His  face  was  assuming  a  drawn  ex- 
pression, as  though  the  words  she  was  reading 
were  causing  a  severe  mental  strain.  Affairs 
were  taking  a  sad  turn  for  him. 

"  Sir  Albany  Armadale,"  Nellie  was  read- 
ing. 

A  queer  little  smile   crossed   his   face.    "  Then, 


HOPE  CRUSHED   TO  EARTH.  247 


like  so  many  other  American  girls,  she  has  been 
won  by  a  title." 

"  Clyde  Delamere  ;  "  and  Nellie  paused. 

Leon  rose  to  his  feet  and  faced  squarely  about. 
"  The  grand  rascal.  Pardon  me,  Nellie,  but  I 
cannot  help  it." 

"  Never  mind,  Leon,  just  listen  to  the  manner 
in  which  the  friendship  was  renewed.''  Then 
she  read  on  to  the  close.  When  she  had  finished, 
she  dropped  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and  looked  pity- 
ingly up  into  Leon's  face,  while  the  great  tear- 
drops rose  to  the  surface  and  rolled  down  her 
cheeks.  .  She  was  giving  him  what  she  would  scorn 
from  Ralph ;  and  in  return  Leon  was  gazing  into 
her  face,  a  mixed  expression  upon  his  own.  Could 
she  mean  she  was  glad  of  the  release  which  this 
letter  had  foretold  for  her?  It  must  be,  for  no 
expression  of  pain  crossed  her  features,  only  one 
of  anxious  pity  for  him  alone. 

"  What  does  it  mean,  Nellie  ? "  was  Leon's 
question,  as  soon  as  he  felt  he  could  trust  himself 
to  speak. 

"  Leon,  you  know  all  I  know ;  only  I  have  not 
heard  from  Clyde  in  a  long  time,  and  this  explains 
it  to  me.  I  had  realized  long  ago  that  it  was  a 
fancy  on  my  part  ;  and  I  am  sure  now  it  was  as 


248  STOKM-SWEPT. 


far  as  he  was  concerned.  What  is  my  duty, 
Leon  ?  " 

"  You  are  sure  you  do  not  care  for  him  now  ?  " 

"  As  sure  as  I  am  that  I  am  here.  When  I 
read  that  letter  I  felt  as  I  am  sure  a  bird  does 
when  its  cage  door  is  opened,  and  the  bird  is  set 
free." 

"  Olga  appears  to  care  a  good  deal  for  him, 
from  the  tone  of  the  letter.  If  he  truly  loves  her, 
may  she  be  happy,  and  may  he  be  more  true  to 
her  than  he  has  been  to  you.  Nellie,  you 
know  as  well  as  I — I  speak  to  you  as  to  a 
sister — that  letter  shatters  my  life-hopes.  God 
help  me  to  live  through  the  rest  of  the  dreary 
way." 

"  Leon,  I  felt  deeply  for  you  when  I  first  read 
that  letter.  I  knew  how  much  it  meant  for  you 
as  well  as  for  me.  How  I  shall  live  through  the 
gossip  which  will  follow  the  knowledge  of  Clyde's 
desertion,  I  do  not  know  ;  but  this  one  favor  I  ask, 
Leon.  Do  not  tell  Ralph.  I  could  never  stand 
his  pity.  Sooner  or  later,  the  news  will  come  to 
the  village,  but  what  we  know  let  us  keep  between 
ourselves.  It  concerns  us  more  than  any  one  else, 
and  I  am  glad  it  is  we  alone  who  have  the  secret 
in  our  keeping." 


HOPE  CRUSHED  TO  DEA  Ttt.  249 

"  I  will  do  as  you  desire,  Nellie.  I  will  shield 
your  heart  as  I  wish  my  own  shielded." 

"  Is  it  a  bargain  ?" 

"  It  is !  Not  a  soul  shall  know,  not  even  my 
mother." 

Silently  they  walked  back  to  the  brookside  as 
the  first  bell  for  the  young  peoples'  meeting  rang 
out  through  the  hallowed  evening  stillness 

"Shall  you  go,  Leon?" 

"  Yes,  Nellie,  for  help  ; "  and  she  understood 
his  meaning.  \ 

She  stood  at  the  brookside  as  Leon  lifted  his 
hat  and  started  off  across  the  meadow.  How 
strange  that  the  blasting  of  one  life  so  often  means 
another's  happiness  ! 

"  No  star  goes  down  but  shines  in  other  skies. 
The  rose  of  sunset  folds  its  glory  up 
To  burst  again  from  out  the  heart  of  dawn  ; 
And  love  is  never  lost,  though  hearts  run  waste, 
And  sorrow  makes  the  chastened  heart  a  seer. 
The  deepest  dark  reveals  the  starriest  hope, 
And  Faith  can  trust  her  heaven  behind  the  veil." 


250  STORM-SWEPT. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

UNVEILED   BY   THE    NORTHERN   LIGHTS. 

"  And  the  stars  in  the  skies,  with  their  great  wild  eyes. 
Peered  out  from  the  Northern  Lights." 

ATI  E  !  "  The  effort  was  followed  by  a 
hollow  echoing  cough,  and  the  poor 
consumptive's  wasted  body  sank 
back  upon  the  bank  of  white  pillows. 
In  a  few  weeks  such  a  change  had  come  over  Mrs. 
Sharon  that  one  would  never  have  recognized,  in 
that  wasted  shrunken  form,  the  erect  and  wiry 
woman  whom  we  first  met  in  the  cottage  now 
occupied  by  the  Deans.  Quick  consumption  was 
fast  carrying  her  beyond  that  bourne  from  whence 
no  traveller  was  ever  known  to  return.  Mrs. 
Sharon  and  Katie  were  still  at  Mrs.  Catlin's. 
Katie,  in  spite  of  her  useless  feet,  was  one  who 
could  not  be  spared  ;  so  well  had  she  adapted  her- 
self to  her  position.  Mrs.  Sharon's  sickness  had 
progressed  so  rapidly,  that  Mrs.  Catlin  had  not  the 
heart  to  send  her  to  the  hospital ;  so  Katie  was 


UNVEILED  BY  THE  NORTHERN  LIGHTS. 


allowed  to  care  for  her  mother  as  best  she  could. 
In  response  to  the  feeble  call,  Katie  came  at 
once,  and  her  mother's  hand  lay  in  hers  till  she 
could  again  speak. 

Then  in  a  husky  voice  she  said,  "  Katie,  what 
time  is  it  ?  " 

"  Just  half-past  nine,  mother.  I  have  but  a 
little  more  mending  to  do  and  shall  soon  go  to 
bed.  What  can  I  do  to  make  you  more  com- 
fortable ?  " 

"  Listen  to  me,  Katie,  and  watch  out  of  that 
window.  Do  you  see  those  flashes  of  light  dart- 
ing through  the  sky?  There  is  an  awful  fire 
somewhere,  and  I  believe  it  is  the  world  coming 
to  an  end." 

"  I  have  been  watching  the  appearance  of  the 
sky  and  it  grows  more  strange  every  rroment." 

"  Katie,  I  want  to  tell  you  something." 

"  What  is  it,  mother?" 

"  About  the  children.  What  is  that  great  shaft 
of  light  that  spreads  over  the  sky?  I  must  make 
haste." 

Mrs.  Sharon  was  seized  with  another  coughing 
spell.  Katie  was  quite  alarmed  by  its  severity. 
When  it  was  over,  Mrs.  Sharon  said,  "  Do  not 
interrupt  me  in  what  I  have  to  say.  May  I  have 


252  S  TORM-S  WEP  T. 


breath  left  for  me  to  tell  you  all.  I  told  you  a 
falsehood  once,  Katie.  I  thought  it  would  be 
for  our  good  ;  but  I  have  never  lived  an  hour 
since  without  torture  of  mind.  Mr.  Dean  never 
came  for  the  children  ; — I  sent  them  away."  A 
deep  moan  escaped  from  Katie's  lips,  as  she 
dropped  her  head  upon  her  hands.  Her  heart 
seemed  to  stop  beating. 

"  I  was  gold-greedy,  Katie  ;  I  could  not  bear  to 
see  those  jewels  and  the  valuables  go  out  of  the 
house.  I  was  a  fiend  for  a  time,  Katie.  I  took 
the  things  you  rescued  from  the  fire.  I  hid  them. 
I  hired  Matt  to  take  the  children  away,  and  send 
them  adrift.  Lost  children  are  usually  picked  up 
by  the  police,  you  know,  and  are  either  put  in  the 
asylum,  or  find  good  homes.  I  do  not  know 
where  or  how  far  he  took  them.  I  tell  you  I 
was  a  fiend, — oh  !  that  I  was  ever  so  wicked.  I 
know  you  are  mourning  away  your  heart's  blood, 
b".t  I  must  tell  you,  for  the  judgment  day  is  com- 
ing. It  is  a  relief  for  me  to  unburden  my  soul  to 
you,  Katie.  I  know  you  will  hate  and  despise 
me,  but  the  burden  grows  lighter.  I  told  Matt 
never  to  show  his  face  again.  It  was  my  doings, 
Katie.  I  sent  him  away.  Yes,  for  a  few  paltry 
jewels,  and  a  little  gold,  I  sold  my  soul.  Oh,  I 


UNVEILED  BY  THE  NORTHERN  LIGHTS.     253 


have  suffered.  Remorse  has  eaten  deeply  into 
my  vitals.  I  know  I  shall  not  live  long,  so  I 
wanted  you  to  know  but  I  did  not  want  to  be  on 
earth  when  the  last  trumpet  sounded.  Katie, 
child,  can  you  forgive  me  ?  God  knows  I  would 
undo  it  all  if  I  could.  Take  the  money  and  travel 
the  world  over  till  you  find  Matt.  He  was  going 
for  a  three  years'  voyage.  If  you  can  find  him 
after  all  these  years  perhaps  you  can  hunt  up  the 
children.  Mr.  Dean  would  not  care  if  you  spent 
every  cent  to  find  them.  Oh,  it  was  a  wicked 
thing  to  do  ;  and  may  God  have  mercy  on  my 
soul.  .The  valuables  are  in  the  false  bottom  of 
your  wheeling-chair.  The  papers  are  in  the  chintz- 
covered  foot-stool.  The  money  is  in  the  bank. 
Between  the  tick  and  the  hair  of  the  mattress, 
one  end  of  it  has  been  ripped  and  sewed  up  again, 
is  my  bank-book.  I  have  put  the  money  in  the 
bank  a  little  at  a  time.  Be  quick,  Katie  ;"  an  at- 
tack of  coughing  was  coming  on  ;  "  bring  a  pen  so 
I  can  sign  the  book  and  you  can  get  the  money." 
Katie  hastily  found  the  place  where  the  book 
had  been  inserted.  She  placed  the  pen  in  the 
shrunken  fingers,  but  they  could  not  close  to  hold 
it.  Katie  held  her  hand,  and  guided  the  pen, 
but  the  signature  was  not  intelligible.  The  cough- 


254  STORM-SWEPT. 


ing  fit  came  on,  and  for  some  moments  Katie 
waited  not  knowing  whether  she  were  sane  or 
otherwise.  After  a  time  Mrs.  Sharon  whispered : 
"  Come — listen  !  see,  the  light  grows  brighter ! 
It  flashes  clear  across  the  sky!  Katie,  you  have 
me  to  blame  for  your  poor  feet.  I  gave  you 
medicine  to  keep  you  in  bed  till  Matt  came. 
You  were  badly  burned,  and  I  had  a  good  excuse. 
I  thought  he  would  never  come  ;  but  he  did  at  last. 
Do  you  remember  that  April  morning  when  you 
walked  out  into  the  kitchen,  and  I  came  in  and 
found  you  there?  Matt  had  been  to  tell  me  he 
had  taken  the  children  away,  and  was  back  for  his 
money.  I  didn't  ask  him  where  they  were.  He 
didn't  tell  me.  I  gave  him  the  money,  and  have 
never  seen  him  since.  Now  I  have  told  you  all. 
I  would  give  worlds  to  bring  back  the  children. 
Forgive," — then  up  from  the  depths  sprang  the 
crimson  life-tide.  Then  with  the  strange  weird 
flashing  of  the  northern  lights  on  that  peaceful 
summer  night,  Mrs.  Sharon's  spirit  passed  over 
the  boundary  into  the  unknown  country. 

School  closed  with  the  end  of  the  month.  The 
girls  had  made  up  a  purse  out  of  the  remnants  of 
their  pin-money  and  had  presented  it  to  Katie ; 


UNVEILED  BY  THE  NORTHERN  LIGHTS.     255 

but  the  poor  girl  was  sick  both  in  heart  and  mind. 
The  girls  thought  it  was  all  grief  for  her  mother, 
but  the  deepest  grief  of  all  was  for  the  two  little 
angels  set  adrift  in  some  heartless  and  unfriendly 
city.  The  children  were  only  babies  then,  who 
could  just  lisp  their  pet  names.  Were  they  alive 
after  all  these  years  ;  or  were  they  under  the  green 
daisy-strewn  sod,  where  Katie  wished  she  might 
soon  be? 

How  vividly  she  could  recall  those  dainty  little 
beings,  Angie,  light-haired,  blue-eyed,  dimpled 
and  angelic  ;  Evelyn,  dark-orbed,  and  with  unruly 
curling,  brown  locks !  "  She  will  have  purple- 
black  hair  some  day  like  her  mother's,"  Aunt 
Eunice  used  to  say. 

Katie  found  herself  speaking  the  last  sentence 
aloud,  and  in  the  next  breath  she  said,  "  I  never 
saw  any  one  with  such  purple-black  hair  as  Mrs. 
Dean's,  excepting  some  one, — I  cannot  think 
who, — unless  it  was  Nellie  Argyle." 

At  this  time,  even  as  Katie  thought  of  her, 
Nellie's  own  self  was  in  the  parlor  talking  with 
Mrs.  Catlin,  and  begging  of  her  to  allow  Katie  to 
go  to  Primrose  Bank  for  a  rest  and  a  change. 

"  We  will  make  it  just  as  pleasant  as  we  can 
for  her,  Mrs.  Catlin." 


256  STORM-SWEPT. 


The  latter  smiled.  "  I  do  not  doubt  it,  Nellie; 
and  someway  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  just  what 
she  needs,  an  entire  change  ;  for  she  has  been 
perfectly  devoted  to  her  mother,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  has  not  at  all  neglected  her  other  work.  I 
will  speak  with  her  about  it." 

The  upshot  of  the  affair  was  that  when  Deacon 
Argyle  went  to  the  train  to  meet  Nellie,  he  found 
Katie  Sharon  also,  accompanied  by  her  rolling- 
chair  and  foot-stool. 

"  Why,  she  wouldn't  look  natural  without 
them,  father,  said  Nellie  as  the  deacon  took 
them  in,  bag  and  baggage.  And  that  night  when 
the  whippoorwill  called,  and  the  night-dew  fell, 
Mrs.  Argyle  welcomed  to  her  home  another 
motherless  girl. 


NELLIE'S  NE  W  IDEA.  257 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

NELLIE'S  NEW  IDEA. 

:  I  stand  and  wait,  while  all  around  me  lies 
Work  that,  to  me,  seems  fitted  for  my  hand." 

HE  months  were  passing,  and  Nellie's 
new  idea  had  not  been  put  into  effect. 
One  early  fall  evening  she  sat  with  the 
rest  of  the  family  around  the  table  in 
the  cosy  sitting-room.  Nellie  had  seemed  a  little 
restless  all  day.  Each  one  was  busy  that  night 
with  their  own  particular  bit  of  pick-up  work. 
Mother  Argyle  was  knitting,  Nellie  was  crochet- 
ing, while  Katie  was  occupied  with  her  favorite 
mending.  Deacon  Argyle  was  reading  the  Weekly 
Sentinel.  Nellie  stopped  her  work,  and  sat  gaz- 
ing abstractedly  at  the  lamp.  Suddenly  she 
spoke. 

"  Now  you  are  all  here  together,  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  you." 


258  STORM-SWEPT. 


Every  eye  was  turned  toward  her.  What  could 
be  coming  now? 

"  I  am  getting  out  of  my  teens,  and  it  is  time  I 
was  settling  down  to  some  sort  of  a  life-work." 

"  Work  ? "  growled  the  deacon,  he  always 
growled  when  anything  did  not  set  just  right. 
"  Hain't  you  work  enough  here,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  Well,  father,  I  have  an  ambition." 

"  It's  a  bad  thing  for  girls  to  have  ambitions  git 
into  their  heads." 

"  Whether  you  would  like  to  have  me  carry  it 
out,  is  another  question  ;  but  I  shall  be  greatly 
disappointed  if  I  cannot  do  this  one  thing." 

"  What  is  it,  daughter  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  go  to  the  hospital  and  learn  to  be 
a  nurse." 

"  Thunderation  !  "  that  was  the  deacon's  nearest 
approach  to  swearing. 

"  We  couldn't  live  without  you,"  said  Katie. 

"  How  long  have  you  had  this  in  your  mind, 
dear?"  Mother  Argyle  questioned. 

"  For  the  past  six  months.  My  heart  is  set  on 
going  in  this  fall  ;  and  I  do  hope  you  will  let  me 
do  it." 

"  Whatever  you  do,  you'll  do  well,"  said  the 
deacon,  cooling  down  a  little. 


NELLIES  NE  W  IDEA. 


2,59 

"  I  hope  so,  father.  If  I  go,  it  will  be  with 
the  determination  of  doing  my  whole  duty.  I 
shall  not  go  for  the  sake  of  the  money,  but  be- 
cause I  feel  it  is  a  great  field  for  usefulness." 

"  So  it  is,  my  daughter,  and  a  noble  work, 
too  ;  but  I  thought  you  had  other  plans  for  the 
future." 

"  I  did  have,  but  very  happily  for  me  they  were 
frustrated  as  this  card  which  I  /  will  show  you 
tells." 

She  laid  on  the  table  before  them  a  heavy 
white  envelope  on  which  was  the  coat-of-arms 
of  a  baron,  the  same  which  had  been  closely  ex- 
amined by  the  deacon  and  his  wife  as  they  sat 
there  one  evening  over  two  years  ago.  Father 
Argyle  cleared  his  throat  as  he  said,  "  Open  it, 
mother."  It  was  unsealed,  and  on  being  opened 
proved  to  be  an  announcement  card.  It  excited 
considerable  comment  from  the  deacon  and  his 
wife. 

"  Wall,  he  is  a  genuine  scalawag.  I  was  most 
afeared  of  him  ;  but  I  thought  you  sot  so  much 
store  by  him  I  couldn't  bear  to  see  you  disap- 
pointed." 

"  Why,  Nellie,  you  seem  to  take  it  very  coolly, 
child," 


260  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  So  I  do,  mother,  and  perhaps  you  will  be 
glad  to  know  that  I  am  happy  to  be  thus  re- 
leased. The  only  thing  that  irritates  me  is, 
Clyde  Delamere,  or  rather,  the  Baron  of  Arma- 
dale,  did  not  even  consider  it  necessary  to  inform 
me  that  he  wished  to  break  the  engagement  ;  and 
poor  Olga  is  utterly  ignorant,  as  far  as  I  know,  of 
his  having  been  engaged  to  me." 

"  Wall,  he  is  a  dragon  for  sartin,  to  treat  any 
gal  like  that ;  and  if  I  had  him  here  I'd  teach 
him,  that  I  would,"  and  the  deacon  stormed  up 
and  down  the  kitchen.  There  wasn't  room  for 
him  to  let  off  steam  in  the  sitting-room ;  and 
when  Father  Argyle  was  riled  he  was  riled. 

"  Never  mind,  father,  I  wouldn't  marry  a  title, 
any  way ;  I  am  too  purely  American  for  that  ; 
and  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  ceased  to  care  for 
him.  I  only  hope  Olga  and  he  truly  love  each 
other;  but  he  is  such  a  smooth-tongued  gentle- 
man one  is  apt  to  mistake  admiration  for  love, 
as  in  my  case  ;  but  the  gloss  has  worn  off  as  far 
as  I  am  concerned.  Now  about  my  project  ?  " 

"  Nellie,"  said  the  deacon,  pausing  in  the  door- 
way his  arms  akimbo,  "  you  can  do  anything  you 
are  a-mind  to.  I  give  you  a  good  long  credit 
mark  for  bein'  sensible  in  this  matter,  and  I  be- 


NELLIE'S  NE  W  IDEA .  261 

lieve  you've  got  some  pretty  good  material  in 
you,  such  as  '11  carry  you  through  seein'  legs  an' 
arms  sawed  off,  and  eyes  gouged  out,  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  et-ceteras." 

"  Now,  father,  I  hardly  know  how  to  take  you." 

"  Wall,  I  mean  just  what  I  say.  A  girl  that 
can  give  up  a  lover  like  that,  after  all  the  fuss  he 
made  over  you,  and  vice  versa,  has  got  consider- 
able grit  in  her;  and  I'll  help  you  to  carry  out 
your  plan  if  it  takes  the  last  dollar." 

"  Oh,  but  it  won't,  father,  I've  saved  nearly 
enough  to  carry  me  through.  Of  course,  it  is 
not  a  common  occupation  ;  but  I  feel  as  though 
as  a  nurse  I  could  do  a  greater  amount  of  good 
than  in  any  other  way." 

"  Yes,  dear,"  and  Mother  Argyle's  voice  was 
tremulous  in  the  extreme.  She  tried  to  command 
it  but  could  not ;  and  the  tears  rolled  down  the 
furrowed  cheeks,  while  Nellie  brushed  them  away, 
begging  of  her  not  to  feel  badly.  But  the 
mother-heart  was  full,  and  she  had  to  have  her 
cry  out.  It  was  something  very  unusual  to  see 
Mother  Argyle  in  tears,  but  it  was  the  thoughts 
of  this  child  leaving  the  home  which  had  sheltered 
her  for  so  many  years. 

"  I  shall  come  back,  mother." 


262  STORM-SWEPT. 


11  Yes,  child,  but  when  you  have  once  gone, 
and  have  learned  your  trade,  or  whatever  you 
call  it,  then  you  will  have  to  go  where  duty  calls 
you  always ;  and  what  of  the  poor  old  father  and 
mother,  childless,  when  they  need  you  so  much 
in  these  later  years  ?  " 

"  But,  mother,  you  and  father  will  always  have 
the  first  claim  on  me."  Katie's  heart,  too,  was 
full ;  too  full  for  utterance.  If  she  had  looked 
up  the  tears  would  have  rained  down. 

Nellie  prepared  herself  for  the  examination, 
and  was  admitted  to  the  hospital.  Was  it  not  a 
strange  coincidence  that  about  this  time  Ralph 
Strong  was  chosen  out  of  a  class  of  sixty  aspiring 
applicants,  and  placed  in  the  office  of  house-sur- 
geon at  the  hospital  where  Nellie  was  enrolled  as 
nurse.  Call  it  happening  if  you  will.  To  my 
mind  nothing  happens.  It  is  all  in  the  plan  of 
an  overruling  Power.  And  it  is  that  same  Provi- 
dence which  makes  one's  gain  another's  loss  ;  the 
increased  happiness  of  one,  to  mean  bitter  pain 
for  some  one  else  ;  and  so  it  certainly  was  in  this 
case. 

Olga  was  gone  beyond  the  reach  of  Leon 
Thorpe,  but  his  whole  heart  had  gone  out  to  her, 
and  it  could  never  return  to  be  given  to  any  one 


NELLIE'S  NEW  IDEA.  263 

else.  He  realized  the  blight  which  had  fallen 
upon  his  young  life, "and  manfully  strove  to  hide 
it.  Ke  busied  himself  with  his  books  ;  he  studied 
early  and  late  ;  he  strove  in  all  ways  which  sug- 
gested themselves  to  a  pure  and  upright  nature 
to  subdue  this  clamorous  love  which  was  slowly 
absorbing  his  life.  He  seldom  heard  anything 
regarding  Olga  now.  Nellie  was  busy  with  her 
training,  but  occasionally  found  time  to  write  him 
a  few  lines,  though  she  seldom  mentioned  Olga, 
except  once  to  say,  "  I  had  a  letter  from  Olga  the 
other  day,  she  is  travelling  in  Italy  now  "  ;  and 
again,  "  Olga  is  on  her  way  to  her  Highland  castle, 
she  says  in  her  last  hurriedly  written  letter."  No 
more  tidings  as  to  whether  she  was  happy,  nor 
in  fact  any  particulars  whatsoever. 

So  the  days  and  weeks  and  months  monoto- 
nously sped  on  at  Westbridge.  But  across  the 
water  time  was  telling.  While  Nellie  kept  up  her 
daily  routine,  or  alone  with  the  sick  and  dying 
paced  to  and  fro  in  her  ward  through  the  long 
watches  of  the  night,  our  gay,  light-hearted 
Olga  was  as  surely  learning  her  lessons  in  training 
for  a  service  which  lay  only  a  little  farther  along 
on  her  heretofore  flower-strewn  pathway.  While 
Nellie  daily  felt  how  great  was  the  field  opening 


264  STORM-SWEPT. 


before  her,  how  quickly  she  must  work  to  get  in 
all  that  was  possible  in  a  day  with  very  few  spare 
moments  in  it  ;  Olga's  life  was  narrowing  down 
to  a  focus  which  must  be  arrived  at  ere  she  could 
look  beyond — even  one  little  hour. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  INCIDENTS.  265 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A   CHAPTER   OF   INCIDENTS. 

"  They  say  they  love  us,  perhaps  they  do, 

In  a  masculine  way,  as  they  love  their  wine  ; 
But  the  soul  of  a  woman  needs  something  more, 
Or  it  suffers  at  times,  like  mine." 

HE  heather  was  in  full  bloom  and  was 
purpling  the  downs,  when  Sir  Albany 
took  home  his  American  bride.  It  was 
not  long  before  she  had  won  her  way 
into  the  hearts  of  all  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
many  an  old  heart  "  greeted  sair  for  the  bonnie 
lassie  brought  far  from  home  and  friends,  and  set 
high  up  on  the  crags  in  the  gloomy  old  castle." 
Olga  did  not  mind  it  for  a  time,  as  long  as  Clyde 
was  so  very  attentive ;  but  as  months  passed  on, 
his  ardent  love  cooled,  and  many  a  time  when  he 
returned  from  hunting  trips  were  the  wee  wife's 
eyes  bathed  in  tears.  He  poohed  at  her;  called 
her  a  crybaby  ;  and  gave  sundry  other  appella- 
tions which  appeared  very  hateful  indeed  to  the 


266  STORM-SWEPT. 


poor  child  who  was  only  home-sick,  and  hungry 
for  a  little  mothering.  With  so  much  time  on 
her  hands  Olga  turned  to  her  painting,  and  as  the 
months  went  by  she  conceived  an  odd  fancy. 

At  the  time  of  her  marriage  a  strange  truth  had 
come  to  light,  one  which  she  had  often  imagined, 
but  had  been  led  to  believe  was  not  true.  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Mitchell  had,  until  that  time,  seen  fit  to 
keep  it  a  secret  that  Olga  was  an  adopted  daugh- 
ter ;  and  the  newly-gained  knowledge  had  kept 
her  brain  in  a  constant  whirl  and  tumult  of  query. 
Since  that-knowledge  the  face  which  she  had 
laughingly  asserted  to  Nellie  haunted  her,  had 
done  so  in  very  truth,  for  some  way  she  associ- 
ated it  with  her  earliest  years.  The  fancy  grew 
into  a  fixed  purpose,  and  procuring  a  small  can- 
vas, she  set  about  the  task  of  transferring  to  it 
the  face  which  hung  over  her  whether  she  were 
awake  or  sleeping.  She  had  never  told  Clyde  of 
this  fancy  of  hers,  for  it  was  to  her  a  sacred 
thought,  one  never  breathed  to  either  father  or 
mother,  who,  now  that  she  was  married,  left  her 
alone  in  her  new  home ;  while  they,  after  a  few 
weeks'  stay  with  her,  went  on  in  their  search  of 
pleasure,  freed  from  the  care  of  a  child  which  was 
not  their  own.  Left  alone  so  much,  she  devoted 


A  CHAPTER  OF  INCIDENTS.  267 


her  spare  time  to  this  self-imposed  task  ;  although 
moments  and  hours  of  needed  rest  were  also  spent 
upon  the  finest  and  daintiest  of  nedlework. 

One  morning,  as  they  sat  at  breakfast,  Sir  Al- 
bany looked  at  the  wee  wife,  and  for  the  first  time 
noticed  how  pinched  and  pale  she  was  looking. 
His  heart  gave  a  strange  little  twinge  of  remorse 
as  he  thought  of  how  much  he  had  neglected  her 
of  late,  for  the  shooting  had  been  fine,  and  the 
birds  quite  gamey.  He  would  try  and  spend  a 
little  more  time  with  her  that  very  afternoon.  As 
he  left  the  breakfast  room  he  gave  her  cheeks  a 
little  pinch,  as  he  lifted  her  face  to  his  for  a  good- 
bye kiss,  remarking,  "  I  am  afraid  you  are  em- 
broidering too  much,  little  girl  ;  you  must  not 
work  quite  so  hard.  I  shall  be  home  a  little 
earlier  to-day,  so  don't  get  too  tired  out."  She 
rewarded  him  with  one  of  her  old  smiles,  and  with 
a  light  heart  went  about  her  labor  of  love. 

Tiring  of  sewing,  after  a  little,  she  put  the 
dainty  work  aside  and  went  to  the  little  room  in 
an  out  of  the  way  turret  of  the  old  castle,  a  cosy 
little  nook  which  she  had  chosen  as  a  studio. 
Clyde  paid  very  little  attention  to  such  work 
nowadays.  He  was  too  much  wrapped  up  in  the 
shooting.  He  did  not  even  know  she  was  paint- 


268  STORM-SWEPT. 


ing.  Most  likely,  under  existing  circumstances, 
he  would  have  forbidden  it  entirely ;  but  as  he 
did  not  know,  the  wee  wife  worked  on.  She  was 
fast  gaining  the  expression  she  had  striven  so  hard 
to  obtain.  The  kindly  dark  eyes  were  gazing  at 
her  from  the  wet  canvas.  She  was  sitting  with 
her  brush  in  her  hand,  her  mind  away  back  in 
bygone  years,  trying  so  hard  to  connect  that  face 
with  something  of  the  past,  but  without  avail. 
She  had  not  quite  come  back  to  the  present  when 
her  dreaming  was  disturbed.  Sir  Albany  was 
speaking.  He  stood  in  the  doorway,  his  blanched 
face  in  strong  contrast  with  the  darkness  of  the 
passage. 

"  Indeed,  my  lady,  and  who  might  this  lover 
be?"  He  had  asked  no  questions,  and  his  words 
were  an  accusation.  The  demon  Jealousy  had 
seized  him,  and  the  old  dragon  blood  was  aroused. 
She  did  not  move,  for  his  words  chilled  her  to  the 
heart.  He  made  a  move  toward  the  picture,  say- 
ing, "  Speak,  woman,  before  I  destroy  the  proof 
of  your  perfidy.  By  the  bones  of  the  dragon,  but 
you  must  do  well  to  paint  such  a  speaking  face 
from  memory."  His  words  were  full  of  irony, 
while  his  dark  eyes  almost  flashed  fire. 

Olga  had  never  seen  this  side  of  his  nature,  but 


A  CHAPTER  OF  INCIDENTS.  269 

it  cut  her  to  the  quick.  She  arose  and  stood  be- 
fore him  in  all  her  womanly  dignity.  Her  face 
was  blanched,  but  not  with  fear  ;  the  deer  was  at 
bay. 

"  Clyde  Delamere,"  and  her  voice  was  low  and 
intense,  "dare  to  destroy  that  picture,  dare  to 
even  mar  it,  and  by  the  quivering  little  life  which 
will  some  day  own  you  its  father,  I  charge  you, 
Dragon  of  Armadale,  you  will  rue  it.  You  dare 
to  make  insinuations!  Look  at  your  own  life 
and  see  who  has  cause  for  jealousy.  As  for  that 
face,  it  is  one  that  has  haunted  me,  haunts  me  yet ; 
who  it  is  I  do  not  know,  only  this,  that  wherever 
I  turn  I  see  that  face,  and  paint  it  I  will,  though 
all  the  demon  dragons  of  Armadale  swoop  down 
on  this  ill-fated  castle.  You  have  feigned  to  love 
me,  but  love  is  not  in  your  nature.  You  are  a 
fascinator;  a  fiend,  dragon-like  seeking  whom  you 
may  devour.  I  am  at  your  mercy,  I  say  it,  at  the 
mercy  of  my  husband  ;  and  shame  upon  you  that 
you  dare  to  insult  me,  I,  your  wife,  and  the 
mother  of  your  unborn  child.  I  pray  that  no 
calamity  overtake  you  before  you  beg  forgive- 
ness for  having  judged  me  with  such  terrible 
injustice." 

She  raised  her  hand  to  her  head,  reeled  back- 


270  STORM-SWEPT. 


ward,  and  sank  insensible  at  the  feet  of  the  con- 
science-stricken man. 

"God  forgive  me!  I  have  killed  her !"  His 
anger  was  gone,  he  knew  she  had  spoken  only  the 
truth. 

If  she  would  only  speak,  just  to  say  she  for- 
gave him  ;  but  there  she  lay  white  and  cold,  with 
the  blood  settling  in  the  hollows  of  her  face.  He 
took  her  in  his  arms  and  staggered  under  the 
heavy  burden  till  he  laid  her  on  a  couch  in  her 
own  apartment.  Then  he  rang  for  Jean,  and  left 
the  room  as  soon  as  the  woman  came.  She 
bathed  the  white  face  and  rubbed  the  stiffened 
limbs,  all  the  while  talking  in  her  own  motherly 
way.  "  My  puir  wee  bairn.  I  thocht  he  wad  be 
the  deith  o'  her  ane  o'  these  days.  My  puir  wee 
girl,  she  could  na  stand  it ;  she  war  that  nearvous. 
She  war  too  muckle  tried,  my  wee  girl  was.  It  is 
he  that  has  killed  her  ;  wae  tae  him,  wae,  wae  !  " 
and  so  old  Jean  mourned  as  she  chafed  the  cold 
hands  and  bathed  the  marble-like  brow.  After  a 
time  the  eyelids  quivered,  and  a  convulsive  move- 
ment showed  that  life  was  not  extinct.  In  an- 
other hour  she  had  regained  partial  consciousness, 
but  the  strain  had  been  too  much  for  the  poor 
little  mother-elect.  Before  the  dawn  of  the  mor- 


A   CHAPTER  OF  INCIDENTS.  271 


row's  sun  a  new  life  had  sprung  into  being,  and 
Olga  for  the  first  time  had  experienced  the  pangs 
of  motherhood.  For  days  and  weeks  her  life 
hung  on  a  thread,  as  did  also  the  little  life  sum- 
moned before  its  time  ;  but  God  is  merciful,  and 
in  his  goodness  spared  them  both.  Old  Jean  had 
a  very  tender  spot  in  her  heart  for  both  of  them  ; 
and  she  did  everything'she  could  think  of  to  bring 
a  little  color  to  the  too  pale  cheeks. 

But  through  all  these  anxious  days  where  was 
Sir  Albany?  His  conscience  was  a  very  uncom- 
fortable thing  to  possess  about  this  time.  He 
was  sure  Olga  would  hate  him  if  she  were  alive, 
and  she  'must  be,  or  he  would  have  heard  if  any- 
thing dreadful  had  happened.  And  if  she  were 
to  hate  him  what  was  the  use  of  going  back,  so  he 
might  as  well  go  away  and  stay.  So  he  travelled 
on  while  weeks  grew  into  months.  He  went  as 
far  as  Florence,  and  there  went  over  the  ground 
he  and  Olga  had  gone  over  in  their  days  of  love- 
making  ;  and  every  step  he  took  made  him  hate 
himself  more  and  more.  What  a  brute  he  had 
been,  all  too  undeserving  of  such  a  treasure  as  he 
now  realized  his  wife  to  be.  Oh,  why  had  he 
allowed  the  dragon  Jealousy  to  gain  possession 
pf  him  ! 


272  STORM-SWEPT. 


He  went  on  to  Venice  where  they  had  spent 
some  days  during  their  first  newly-wedded  hap- 
piness. Oh,  if  those  days  would  only  come  back 
again,  how  differently  he  would  do !  He  hailed  a 
gondolier  one  evening,  and  was  soon  gliding  over 
the  moonlit  waves,  he  reclining  alone  among  the 
luxurious  cushions.  If  Olgawere  only  there,  and 
had  forgiven  him  ;  but  better  still,  if  the  harsh 
words  had  never  been  said !  The  music  came 
softly,  sweetly  out  to  him  while  the  countless  gay 
lights  from  cornices  and  roofs,  and  even  from  the 
water's  edge,  were  reflected  in  silver  and  gold  in 
the  ripples  of  the  lagoon.  High  up  along  the 
balconies  he  could  see  the  flaming  torches  flicker- 
ing, while  all  around  the  lagoon  were  the  white 
faces  and  dark  forms  of  the  people  looking  down 
on  the  beautiful  scene.  In  the  distance  he  saw 
the  shimmering  multi-colored  waters  ;  and  heard 
the  gurgling  murmur  of  the  fountains.  How  dif- 
ferently it  had  sounded  when  Olga  was  there  ;  now 
he  could  take  no  pleasure  in  it.  At  a  sign  from  Sir 
Albany,  the  stoical  gondolier  dexterously  swung 
his  gondola  to  the  water's  edge,  and  Clyde  was 
soon  in  his  hotel  getting  ready  to  start  for  home. 
He  could  stand  it  no  longer.  All  the  old  passion 
had  been  aroused  by  this  hasty  visit  to  a  place 


A  CHAPTER  OF  INCIDENTS.  273 


so  closely  associated  with  Olga.  He  would  go 
back  to  her,  and  beg  the  forgiveness  she  alone 
could  grant. 

When  once  headed  for  home,  it  seemed  that 
the  creeping  railway  trains  would  never  get  to 
Calais.  Over  the  channel,  and  up  through  the 
rugged  Scotch  country,  the  journey  took  days 
which  seemed  interminable  ;  and  after  all,  if  she 
were  still  alive,  how  would  she  receive  him  ?  He 
had  been  gone  so  many  months,  there  had  been 
time  for  a  good  deal  to  happen.  Poor  Olga! 
her  period  of  convalescence  was  lengthy  and 
tedious.  All  alone  in  the  old  castle,  with  no  com- 
panion save  Jean  and  the  wee  baby,  how  slowly  the 
time  dragged  on  !  Olga  still  remained  weak  and 
weary,  nothing  that  was  done  seeming  to  be  of 
any  avail.  She  wrote  to  her  mother  at  length, 
and  after  a  time  she  came.  She  sat  in  Olga's 
room  one  evening,  soon  after  her  arrival,  engaged 
in  conversation. 

"  You  say  you  have  never  heard  from  him?" 

"  No,  not  one  word  !  I  have  no  more  idea  than 
you  where  he  is.  If  I  stay  here  I  shall  go  crazy. 
I  must  get  away  somewhere ;  but  where  can  I  go 
with  this  little  lamb?" 

"  You  might  leave  her  with  Jean  and  go  with  us 
18 


274 


STORM-SWEPT. 


for  a  time.  It  will  never  do  for  you  to  drag  her 
around  with  you ;  and  you  will  never  get  well  in 
this  gloomy  place." 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  cannot,  cannot  leave  my  baby. 
Dear  little  life,  if  she  should  die  I  should  never 
forgive  myself." 

"  But,  Olga,  you  must  not  look  at  it  in  that 
way.  If  you  do  not  go  you  will  never  get  well,  I 
am  afraid  ;  so  which  is  the  better  way  to  do  ? 
You  surely  would  rather  leave  her  with  Jean 
for  a  few  months,  than  to  have  to  leave  her 
entirely." 

"You  are  right,  mother;  I  will  think  of  it,  but 
it  seems  very  hard,  but  Jean  will  be  good  to  her. 
I  know  ;  I  could  not  leave  her  in  better  hands." 

So  it  was  arranged  that  the  little  Alma,  a? 
Olga  had  named  her,  should  be  cared  for  by  old 
Jean.  The  night  before  their  departure  had  come, 
and  Olga  alone  with  the  child  in  her  room,  rocked 
and  crooned  over  her.  There  was  no  light  there 
excepting  that  thrown  by  the  flickering  of  the 
burning  logs  in  the  chimney-place. 

"  My  dear  little  treasure  bird  ; "  and  she  held 
the  wee  form  close  to  her  breast,  her  lips  touch- 
ing the  soft  little  ringlets  which  clustered  about 
the  sweet  baby  face.  "  My  own  little  love,  is 


A   CHAPTER  OF  INCIDENTS. 


27S 


it  wicked  for  me  to  leave  you  ?  How  mamma 
loves  to  cuddle  you  close  in  her  arms,  and  to  feel 
your  baby  fingers,  and  hear  your  soft  cooing, 
and  watch  your  wondering  eyes  studying  her 
face  !  I  wonder  if  I  were  my  mother's  own  child, 
if  she  would  ask  me  to  part  with  you  ?  It  is 
like  stopping  the  beating  of  my  heart  to  even 
think  of  letting  you  go.  We  may  be  gone  six 
months,  may  be  more,  and  what  a  big  girl  you 
will  be  then  !  Oh,  my  little  Alma,  perhaps  you 
will  never  see  me  again!"  Her  frame  shook  as 
she  sobbed  over  the  little  one,  who  looked  up  into 
her  face  -and  smiled.  Then  she  calmed  herself 
and  went  on.  "  Yes,  my  little  daughter,  perhaps 
I  shall  leave  this  world  of  trouble,  leave  my  pre- 
cious one  to  grow  up  to  battle  with  the  temp- 
tations and  troubles  of  life,  but  I  leave  you  in 
the  care  of  my  heavenly  Father,  and  he  will  never 
forsake  you.  I  have  not  done  as  much  for  him 
as  I  ought.  I  have  been  gay  and  frivolous ;  but 
it  was  my  nature.  If  I  am  spared,  I  will  try  and 
6(9  more  for  him  who  has  blessed  me  with  such  a 
treasure  to  keep  for  him.  Yes,  little  one,  '  when 
thy  father  and  mother  forsake  thee,  then  the 
Lord  shall  take  thee  up.'  And,  darling,  if  I 
never  see  you  again,  if  I  reach  first  that  beau- 


276  STORM-SWEPT. 


tiful  home  called  heaven,  God  permitting,  mother 
will  come  back  to  this  world  of  trouble  to  be  a 
watchful  guardian  ever  at  your  side  ;  helping 
you  in  time  of  sorrow,  shielding  you  from  every 
harm.  Oh,  if  you  were  only  a  little  older ! 
Your  father  may  come  back  some  day,  some- 
time. If  he  only  knew  that  when  your  little  form 
first  lay  in  my  arms,  all  the  old  love  came  back,  all 
the  unkind  words  were  forgiven,  all  the  dark  past 
was  forgotten  in  that  new  found  bliss.  But  he 
cannot  know,  he  cannot  know."  And  then  the 
little  one  was  laid  in  her  bed  the  last  time  that 
mother  should  lull  her  to  sleep,  while  the  babe 
was  such  a  helpless  wee  one. 

When  the  morning  came,  there  was  a  sad,  sad 
parting  between  mother  and  child  ;  but  the  grand- 
mere's  stronger  will  prevailed,  and  old  Jean  was- 
left  behind  with  the  little  Alma,  while  Olga  and 
her  mother  went  in  search  of  health  and  strength 
among  the  mountains  of  Switzerland.  Months 
had  gone  by,  when  there  came  a  letter  from  Jean 
that  sent  terror  to  the  heart  of  the  young  mother, 
and  sore  were  her  upbraidings  of  self. 

"  MY  DEAR  MISTRESS  : 

"  I  kenna  what   to  do.     The  Maister    is  come 


A  CHAPTER  OF  INCIDENTS.  277 


agen,  and  tells  me  that  I  maun  tak  the  wee  one 
and  gae  'long  wi'  him  to  America.  I  am  sair  tried, 
but  wha'  can  I  do  agen  the  faither  of  the  bairn  ? 
I  wad  hae  ye  come  richt  awa'  hame,  for  \ve  maun 
be  on  oor  way  by  anither  week. 

"  JEAN  MACDUFF." 

Olga  was  prostrated  by  the  news.  They  had 
never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  that  happening. 
All  they  could  do  was  to  take  the  next  train  for 
home.  If  Jean  had  only  telegraphed  ;  but  she 
probably  had  not  thought  of  such  a  thing.  Where 
could  he  be  going  with  the  child  ?  If  he  took  old 
Jean  with  him  she  would  keep  them  informed  ; 
but  supposing  Sir  Albany  took  it  into  his  head 
to  employ  another  nurse?  How  Olga  prayed 
that  she  might  get  back  to  Armadale  before  •  the 
departure  for  America  !  As  fast  as  the  slow  trains 
would  cany  them,  they  travelled  back  to  the  cot- 
tage where  Alma  had  been  left.  They  arrived 
at  the  station  and  drove  at  once  to  Jean's 
home. 

Olga  burst  into  the  room,  and  there  in  a  low 
chair  sat  the  faithful  old  servant  crooning  a  soft 
lullaby  over  the  beautiful  little  girl,  who  slept 
with  her  plump  white  arms  twined  about  the  old 


278  STORM-SWEPT. 

woman's  neck.  Olga  sank  on  the  floor  before 
them,  and  burying  her  face  in  the  child's  lap, 
sobbed  out  her  joy.  The  baby  slowly  opened  her 
eyes,  and  looked  wonderingly  at  Olga,  then  up 
into  old  Jean's  face. 

"  Don't  you  know  your  mother,  darling?  This 
is  mother  come  back  to  you,  precious  one.  How- 
foolish  I  was  ever  to  leave  you  !  "  But  the  little 
one  clung  all  the  closer  to  Jean,  and  looked  over 
her  shoulder  at  this  strange  woman  who  was 
making  such  an  ado  over  her. 

Then  Olga  cried  tears  of  true  grief  ;  for  she 
really  expected  the  child  would  remember  her, 
but  it  did  not.  After  a  little  coaxing  with  her 
watch  and  gold  beads,  she  persuaded  the  child  to 
come  to  her,  then,  with  the  babe  safely  in  her 
arms,  she  ventured  to  ask,  "  Where  is  Sir  Al- 
bany ?  " 

"  Aweel,  Mistress,  we  were  to  tak'  the  steamer 
the  day,  but  the  Lord  prevented  it.  May  the 
gude  God  and  the  kirk  forgive  me  if  I  prayed  an 
evil  prayer,  but  I  thocht  it  a  sair  shame  to  be 
after  whiskin'  the  wee  bairn  out  o'  its  ain  countree 
athout  a  sight  o'  its  mither's  face  for  so  long  a 
time ;  and  sae  I  said,  Dear  Lord,  forgive  me  for 
askin',  but  if  it  be  not  agen  thy  will,  prevent  the 


A  CHAPTER  O:'  INCIDENTS.  279 


Maister   fra  takin'   the    bairn    before    its    mither 
comes,  e'en  if  thou  hast  to  lay  him  low." 

Then  she  leaned  forward  and  said  in  a  hushed 
voice,  "  He  answered  that  prayer  last  nicht. 
The  Maister  was  comin'  fra  the  town,  and  was 
rjallopin'  up  the  rocky  way  to  the  castle,  when 
in  some  way  or  ither  the  horse  threw  him  and 
brak'  his  leg.  And  Donald  heard  the  horse  come 
tearin'  hame  athout  the  Maister,  and  it  was  then 
he  sat  out  to  luik  for  him  and  found  him  lyin' 
there  groanin'.  They  took  him  to  the  castle  and 
got  the  doctor  and  he  set  the  bone  and  bandaged 
him  up  weel  and  said  he  was  gude  for  sax  weeks 
on  that  bed.  But  ne'er  you  mind,  bairn,  the  gude 
Lord's  hand  struck  him  doon,  or  we  wad  hae 
been  out  on  the  deep,  and  you  left  here  greetin' 
sair."  Olga  sat  still  and  white  as  she  listened 
to  old  Jean.  It  was  months  since  she  had  seen 
her  husband  ;  they  had  then  parted  in  anger;  and 
when  he  came  back  and  found  her  gone  he  de- 
cided at  once  to  take  the  baby  away.  But  had 
she  not  left  it  with  Jean  ?  How  she  blamed 
herself  for  that !  In  truth  she  had  blamed  her- 
self for  months  ;  but  her  mother  had  kept  her 
from  thinking  she  was  doing  aught  so  very 
wrong.  Now  she  was  back  again,  how  she  longed 


280  STORM-SWEPT. 


for  all  the  intervening  days  to  be  lived  over  again, 
that  she  might  spend  them  with  her  baby,  and 
watch  the  budding  blossom  open !  Poor  Sir  Al- 
bany !  Her  wifely  heart  had  long  ago  forgiven 
his  cruel  words,  but  pride  kept  her  from  wishing 
to  seek  him,  for  was  not  his  the  greater  fault? 
Now  he  was  ill,  and  all  alone  in  the  old  castle ; 
with  its  dark  halls  and  walls  with  musty  hangings, 
for  it  had  been  closed  all  this  long  while.  Mrs. 
Mitchell  had  found  comfortable  quarters  at  the 
Armadale  Inn  ;  and  now  the  coach  of  that  estab- 
lishment stood  at  the  door  ready  to  convey  Olga 
thither. 

"  Come,  Jean,  with  me."  Olga  carried  the 
child  herself.  She  could  not  bear  to  allow  it  to 
leave  her  arms.  The  trio  entered  the  carriage, 
and  Olga  said,  "To  the  castle."  The  driver 
turned  in  that  direction,  and  slowly  the  lumbering 
coach  rolled  up  the  rocky  road.  Jean  pointed 
out  the  spot  where  Sir  Albany  wras  thrown,  and 
then  in  a  few  moments  they  were  at  the  castle 
gate. 

It  was  with  mingled  emotions  that  she  entered 
the  doorway.  The  old  love  said,  "  Your  place 
is  here  ;  "  but  pride  answered,  "  Go  back  to  the 
inn.  He  left  you,  and  it  is  his  place  to  seek  you." 


A  CHAPTER  OF  INCIDENTS.  281 

Then  love  responded,  "  He  left  you  here  and 
expected  to  find  you  here ;  "  so  between  love 
and  pride  poor  Olga  was  in  sore  distress.  She 
had  come  with  a  heart  full  of  a  fear  that  the  child 
would  be  gone ;  but  Providence  had  aided  her. 
She  would  go  to  her  rooms  and  think  over  what 
was  the  best  thing  to  do.  With  a  heart  full  of 
strange  emotions  she  entered  her  own  apart- 
ments. They  were  just  as  she  had  left  them, 
cleanly  and  well  ventilated.  She  would  just  take 
a  glance  at  Sir  Albany  before  she  ventured  to 
enter  the  room,  and  carry  out  the  resolution  that 
was  fast  forming  in  her  mind.  She  stepped  to 
the  heavy  curtained  doorway  and  noiselessly  slid 
the  door  open.  There  he  lay  at  length,  quiet  and 
ghastly,  his  head  bandaged  about  with  white,  and 
his  face  almost  as  colorless  as  the  bandages. 

What  a  contrast  to  the  handsome  and  faultlessly 
attired  Clyde  Delamere  of  old !  A  great  pity 
swelled  her  heart,  and  then  like  a  clutch  at  her 
throat  came  the  thought  that  on  that  day  he  had 
fully  intended  to  be  on  his  way  to  America  with 
her  baby.  Yes,  he  had  meant  to  take  little  Alma, 
and  leave  her  behind,  with  the  broad  Atlantic 
rolling  between  them.  Then  the  thought  came, 
'•  What  if  he  should  die  ? "  and  the  old  love 


282  STORM-SWEPT. 

tugged  unmercifully  at  her  heart-strings.  He 
moved  and  moaned.  She  drew  back  still  further 
into  the  friendly  shadow  of  the  curtains.  She 
would  not  have  him  see  her  for  worlds  just  now. 
Old  Donald  watched  near  him,  and  the  instant  a 
move  was  made  he  was  at  the  sick  man's  side. 

"  Donald  !  "  it  was  a  weak  voice  which  spoke, 
weak  and  husky,  and  one  hand  groped  about  as 
if  feeling  to  know  if  any  one  were  near.  The 
faithful  old  man  signified  his  presence. 

"  Service,  my  lord." 

"Who  is  here?" 

"  No  one." 

"  I  thought  it  was  my  wife.  I  felt  her  breath 
upon  my  hand.  I  could  swear  to  it." 

At  that  instant  Olga  would  have  rushed  to 
his  side  but  prudence  forbade. 

"  Do  not  excite  yourself,  my  lord.  We  can 
send  for  her  if  you  wish."  Now  she  should  learn 
whether  he  would  be  pleased  to  see  her.  She 
listened  breathlessly.  So  much  depended  on 
what  he  should  say,  but  oh,  perverseness  of  fate, 
or  contrariness  of  human  nature.  He  was  making 
reply : 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  care  to  see  her,  particu- 
larly." 


A  CHAPTER  OF  INCIDENTS.  283 


It  had  cooled  his  ardor  to  come  home  and  find 
her  gone. 

"  Dinna  fash  yourself,  sir.  How  soon  could  you 
stand  seein'  her?" 

"  I  tell  you  I  don't  want  to  see  her.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  this  confounded  accident  she 
wouldn't  have  stood  much  chance  of  seeing  me 
very  soon." 

"Tut,  tut,  sir;  I've  told  you  over  and  over  it 
was  her  mither  that  persuaded  her  to  leave  the 
bairn." 

"  That's  all  right.  I  can  take  care  of  it  when  I 
get  over  this." 

Those  words  capped  the  climax.  Instead  of 
being  humbled  by  the  calamity  which  had  be- 
fallen him,  the  perverse  side  of  his  nature  had 
been  aroused.  If  he  was  in  that  spirit,  though  he 
was  ill,  he  did  not  care  to  see  her ;  and  it  were 
better  that  she  should  go  and  let  him  seek  her  if 
he  so  desired.  She  turned  sadly  back  to  her 
room,  little  thinking  that,  as  a  sick  one  often 
will,  the  wretched  man  had  said  precisely  what 
he  did  not  mean  ;  it  being  only  a  bit  of  bravado 
to  bluff  old  Donald.  If  he  had  but  known  that 
she  heard ! 

With  a  sinking  heart,  the  poor  little  wife  re- 


284  STORM-SWEPT. 


gretfully  picked  up  a  few  of  her  most  treasured 
belongings.  When  all  was  in  readiness  for  her 
departure  she  stepped  back  to  the  doorway  and 
took  a  last  glance  at  Clyde.  He  was  not  seriously 
ill,  though  his  wound  would  require  time  for 
healing;  he  was  still  angry  with  her,  and  did  not 
wish  to  see  her,  and  last  and  most  important  of 
all,  he  still  thought  of  taking  away  the  baby. 
Then  sadly,  with  a  great  load  in  her  breast,  and  a 
feeling  as  though  iron  hands  were  clutching  her 
heart,  she  turned  away  from  the  room  and  made 
haste  to  get  back  to  the  inn.  She  could  not 
trust  even  Jean  with  the  child  now,  for  she  did 
not  know  what  might  come  to  pass.  Mrs.  Mitchell 
advised  her  to  take  the  next  steamer  for  Amer- 
ica ;  and  in  a  very  short  time  she  was  on  her  way, 
her  mind  in  a  state  of  great  excitement.  Her 
only  thought  was  to  get  the  child  to  a  hiding- 
place  of  safety;  and  what  more  restful  harbor 
could  she  go  to  than  Primrose  Bank  ? 


KA  TIE  INTER  VIE  WS  A  UNT  EUNICE.         285 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

KATIE   INTERVIEWS   AUNT   EUNICE. 

1  Oh,  breaking  heart  that  will  not  break  ; 
Oh  pale,  pale  face,  so  sweet  and  meek  ; 
What  wantest  thou  ?  Whom  dost  thou  seek  ?" 

HE  apple  trees  spread  delightfully  cool 
shadows  over  the  front  grass  and  down 
the  sloping  green  grade  to  the  dusty 
road.  Up  by  the  house,  where  the 
gnarled  old  trees  spread  their  broad  limbs,  was 
hung  a  hammock,  and  there  one  pleasant  afternoon 
Katie  Sharon  lay  enjoying  a  siesta.  Mrs.  Argyle 
had  helped  her  into  the  comfortable  seat,' and  had 
left  her  with  a  book. 

"  You  haven't  been  like  yourself  the  last  few 
weeks,  and  you  must  get  out  of  doors  more  ;  "  had 
been  Mrs.  Argyle's  parting  solicitous  remark. 

How  Katie  wanted  to  ask  Mrs.  Argyle's  ad- 
vice, but  it  was  such  a  hard  matter  to  explain ; 
there  were  the  dead  as  well  as  the  living  involved, 
and  the  more  she  thought  of  it,  the  more  she 


286  STORM-SWEPT. 


felt  as  though  she  was  the  most  to  blame  for 
having  taken  the  children  to  her  home  instead 
of  to  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne's.  But  what  better 
could  she  have  done  with  her  heavy  burden,  and 
smarting  burns,  and  anxiety  and  fright  blended 
together?  The  more  she  thought  of  it,  the 
harder  it  seemed  to  find  a  way  out ;  and  then  no 
one  knew  what  changes  might  have  taken  place, 
so  many  years  had  gone  by.  As  Katie  lay  there 
dozing  and  thinking,  she  heard  a  step  coming  up 
the  walk,  but  her  position  was  so  comfortable, 
and  she  was  so  nearly  asleep,  that  she  could  not 
bear  to  move  and  drive  away  the  delightful  sensa- 
tion of  perfect  rest  which  was  stealing  over  her. 

After  a  time  a  carriage  passing  rapidly  aroused 
her,  and  she  awoke  with  the  thoughts  of  the 
children,  and  the  unperformed  duty  which  ever 
stared  her  in  the  face.  Then,  as  she  had  done 
hundreds  of  times  before,  she  breathed  a  prayer 
that  the  way  might  be  opened  to  lead  her  in  the 
right  direction  very  soon.  As  she  fell  to  thinking 
again  of  her  present  surroundings,  she  caught  the 
sound  of  a  voice  from  one  of  the  sitting  room 
windows.  It  was  strangely  familiar.  Then  it 
came  again.  She  wondered  where  she  had  heard 
it  before.  The  voice  approached  the  door.  The 


KA  TIE  INTER  VIE  WS  A  UNT  E  UN  ICE.        287 


owner  evidently  was  about  to  depart.  As  Mrs. 
Argyle  threw  open  the  blind  door,  she  said, 
"  Drop  in  often,  Miss  Stiles,  we  shall  be  glad  to 
have  you  for  a  neighbor." 

Katie  swung  around  to  an  erect  sitting  pos- 
ture, in  order  to  view  the  figure  coming  down 
the  path.  A  choking  sensation  came  into  Katie's 
throat,  and  she  felt  a  sudden  pain  in  the  region 
of  her  heart.  "Aunt  Eunice  ?"  The  voice  qua- 
vered a  little,  and  then  came  a  flood  of  tears. 
Her  opportunity  had  arrived,  but  where  had  Miss 
Stiles  come  from  ?  She  was  the  last  person  on 
earth  she  had  expected  to  see  at  that  moment. 

How  like  many  of  us,  was  Katie.  We  pray 
earnestly  for  some  desired  object,  and  when  our 
prayer  is  answered,  we  are  as  much  astonished  as 
though  we  had  never  asked.  Ah,  how  lax  is  our 
faith !  The  lady  in  turn  was  startled  by  being 
thus  addressed,  for  it  was  years  since  any  person 
other  than  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Dean  had  called  her  by 
that  name. 

"  Was  it  you  who  called  me,  miss  ? "  as  she 
approached  the  sobbing  form. 

The  girl  held  up  her  tear-stained  face  and  said, 
"  Do  you  not  know  me  ?  I  beg  pardon  for  not 
rising,  but  I  cannot  walk." 


288  STORM-SWZPT. 


Eunice  Stiles  looked  anxiously  into  the  scarred 
face,  and  shook  her  head.  "  No,  you  have  the 
advantage  of  me,  my  dear ;  but  what  can  I  do 
for  you?  Mrs.  Argyle  told  me  there  was  a  young 
lady  making  her  home  here,  but  when  she  came 
to  call  you,  you  were  asleep  and  she  thought  she 
would  not  disturb  you." 

"  Don't  you  remember  Katie  Sharon?" 

"Why,  certainly  I  do,  but " 

"  I  am  Katie  Sharon." 

"  That  is  impossible,  for  Katie  was  lost  with 
the  children  years  ago." 

"Aunt  Eunice,  as  God  is  my  Judge,  I  am  that 
Katie ;  and  these  scars  on  my  face  are  the  result 
of  that  fire.  Alarm  number  sixty-three  for 
months  rang  in  my  ears,  sleeping  or  waking. 
And  the  children — God  knows  I  saved  them  with 
the  jewels  at  the  risk  of  my  own  life." 

"  Then  where  are  they  now  ?  " 

Aunt  Eunice  had  risen  by  this  time  and  ex- 
citedly seized  Katie  by  the  shoulder. 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you,  but  if  I  had  not 
stopped  to  save  them,  I  should  not  have  had 
these  scars,  neither  should  I  have  spent  months 
on  a  bed  of  pain." 

"  You  speak  in  riddles.     You  say  you  saved  the 


KA  TIE  INTER  VIE  WS  A  UNT  E  UNICE.        289 

children  and  some  valuables,  yet  have  never  let 
it  be  known.  You  must  unfathom  these  mysteries, 
for  you  make  yourself  liable  for  a  very  grave 
offence,  Mr.  Dean  would  say." 

"  Where  can  I  find  him  ?  " 

"  We  expect  him  home  to-night." 

"  Then  to-night  I  will  see  Mr.  Dean  if  he  will 
call  here,  for  I  am  in  no  condition  to  go  to  him. 
Had  it  not  been  for  my  crippled  condition  I 
should  have  searched  for  him  as  soon  as  I  knew, 
but  the  work  was  done  too  well." 

"  As  soon  as  you  knew  what  ?  " 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  ?  It  is  only  a  very  short 
time  since  I  found  the  children  had  not  been 
restored  to  their  parents." 

Aunt  Eunice  groaned  aloud.  "  Girl,  that 
mother  nearly  died  over  the  loss  of  those  children. 
Her  mind  has  never  been  entirely  right  since 
then ;  and  their  father  grew  gray  on  that  terrible 
night.  We  have  only  lately  come  to  Westbridge 
to  see  what  a  change  of  this  sort  will  do.  We 
have  been  to  the  shore,  and  to  the  mountains, 
North,  South,  East  and  West ;  but  all  is  of  no 
avail.  Why,  I  so  wonder,  have  you  never  let 
people  know  you  were  alive  ?  " 

"  Miss  Stiles,  bring  Mr.  Dean  to  me;  I  would 
19 


290  STORM-SWEPT. 


crawl  to  them  on  my  hands  and  knees  if  I  could, 
and  tell  them  both  the  unbroken  story.  It  has 
almost  killed  me  since  I  have  known  all ;  but  I  did 
not  know  which  way  to  turn,  so  many  years  have 
gone  by." 

"  I  will  bring  Reginald  Dean  with  me  if  he 
comes  home  to-night,  or  my  name  is  not  Eunice 
Stiles ; "  and  she  walked  hastily  down  the  path 
to  the  road.  Katie  was  completely  unnerved. 
She  felt  as  though  her  heart  would  burst,  and 
insensibility  kindly  came  to  her  relief.  When 
the  dew  fell  Mrs.  Argyle  went  to  help  her  into  the 
house,  and  found  an  inanimate  form.  Then  con- 
sternation and  dread  filled  the  house  at  Primrose 
Bank. 


MR.  DEAN  HEARS  KATIE'S  STORY.  291 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

MR.   DEAN   HEARS   KATIE'S   STORY. 

"  Though  much  is  taken,  much  abides ;  and  tho' 
We  have  not  now  that  strength  which  in  old  days 
Moved  earth  and  heaven ;  that  which  we  are,  we  are ; 

*  *  #  *  #  * 

To  strive,  to  seek,  to  find,  and  not  to  yield." 


UNT  EUNICE  hurried  down  the  path 
and  along  the  dusty  road  to  ward  home. 
She  forgot  to  hold  up  her  skirts  as  she 
walked  through  the  grass,  and  over  the 
hard-trodden  path  at  the  roadside  where  the  little 
white  daisies  grew  thickly  in  the  sand,  and  the 
wee  rust-colored  butterflies  alighted  and  dodged 
and  fluttered  by  the  score.  What  a  strange 
tumult  raged  in  her  breast  ;  mingled  hope,  fear, 
scorn,  and  a  dreadful  feeling  of  mystery  hanging 
over  all.  A  telegraph  messenger  met  her  with  a 
fateful  yellow  envelope.  She  tore  it  open  and 
read,  "  Will  be  home  to-morrow.  R.  Dean." 

She  must  wait  another  whole  day  in  suspense, 
and  the  girl  who  called    herself    Katie    Sharon 


292  STORM-SWEPT. 


would  be  iii  suspense  too.  She  could  not  have 
it  so.  Then,  to  the  boy,  "  Take  your  pencil  and 
write  on  the  back  of  that  telegram,  for  my  hand 
is  too  shaky  to-day,  '  Come  as  quickly  as  possible. 
News  of  Katie  Sharon  ;  '  and  see  that  it  goes  at 
once."  The  boy  did  as  directed  and  the  message 
was  soon  speeding  over  the  wires.  When  the 
midnight  express  came  in,  Reginald  Dean  was  on 
board.  Pale  with  excitement,  cold  with  anxiety, 
he  hurried  home.  Aunt  Eunice  was  up  and  wait- 
ing for  him,  and  in  a  few  moments  told  him 
what  she  could.  The  hours  until  daybreak 
seemed  interminable,  but  the  cold  gray  blue  of 
dawn  softened  under  the  roseate  shafts  of  light, 
the  morning  star  grew  dim,  and  the  mists  in  the 
valley  rolled  away. 

As  soon  as  practicable  after  day  was  ushered  in, 
they  bent  their  steps  toward  Deacon  Argyle's. 
Mrs.  Argyle  was  surprised  to  see  them  and  still 
more  so  to  hear  them  ask  for  Miss  Sharon.  Then 
the  clouds  on  her  face  grew  darker.  "  Poor 
Katie  is  very  sick.  She  has  been  in  a  raging 
fever  ever  since  she  came  out  of  the  stupor  in 
which  I  found  her  yesterday  afternoon.  You  re- 
member, Miss  Stiles,  when  you  were  here  she 
was  asleep.  Shortly  after  you  left  for  home  I 


MR.  £>£AN  HEARS  KATIE'S  STORY.          293 

went  to  help  her  into  the  house  and  found  her 
on  the  ground  insensible.  In  her  delirium  she 
calls  for  Mr.  Dean,  and  talks  wildly  about  the 
children,  and  alarm  number  sixty-three.  We  are 
at  a  loss  to  understand  the  cause  of  it." 

"  Have  you  had  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  afraid  of  brain  fever,  and 
says  the  cause  is  probably  some  trouble  unknown 
to  us,  over  which  she  has  been  brooding." 

They  had  entered  the  house  and  already  were 
in  Katie's  room.  She  tossed  uneasily  and  mur- 
mured, "  Oh,  how  have  I  time  to  save  all.  The 
smoke  chokes  me  so."  Then  she  turned  again 
and  groped  blindly  about.  Mr.  Dean  looked 
eagerly  into  the  scarred  face,  then  turning  to  Mrs. 
Argyle,  said,  "  That  girl  must  be  brought  back 
to  reason  at  any  expense.  I  believe  she  holds 
the  key  to  a  terrible  fatality  which  occurred  in 
my  family  some  years  ago.  We  have  searched 
for  this  woman  for  years,  but  had  given  up  all 
hope  of  ever  seeing  her  again.  We  believed  her 
to  be  dead.  You  can  do  us  no  greater  favor 
than  by  doing  for  her  all  in  your  power,  Mrs. 
Argyle." 

"I  should  do  that  anyway,  Mr.  Dean.  Katie 
was  very  much  attached  to  my  daughter  at 


STORM-SWEPT. 


school  ;  and  for  her  sake,  as  well  as  Katie's,  she 
will  receive  the  best  of  care." 

"  Would  you  object  to  having  a  trained  nurse 
for  her  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  My  daughter  is  now  in 
training  at  the  hospital." 

"  I  will  consult  with  Doctor  Strong  and  see 
about  sending  for  her." 

Then  he  sadly  turned  away,  but  one  hope  still 
remained.  He  should  be  able  to  learn  a  little 
of  the  fate  of  the  children ;  he  should  know 
where  they  were  buried,  probably,  if  nothing 
more.  Nellie  was  sent  for  and  all  her  skill  was 
put  in  force  conjointly  with  the  doctor's  to  gain 
victory  over  the  fever  which  was  raging  so  fiercely 
in  that  weary  body.  As  much  anxiety  was  ex- 
perienced at  Mr.  Dean's  as  at  Primrose  Bank. 
Messengers  frequently  passed  back  and  forth 
between  the  houses.  One  day  Mr.  Dean  went  to 
the  door  in  answer  to  a  ring.  It  was  Nellie  who 
had  brought  the  message,  while  out  for  her  daily 
airing.  Mr.  Dean  started  as  he  beheld  her  face. 
Where  had  he  seen  her  before  ?  She  delivered 
her  message  and  was  gone  while  he  was  collect- 
ing his  scattered  senses.  He  stepped  back  into 
the  sitting-room  to  speak  with  Aunt  Eunice. 


MR.  DEAN  HEARS  KATIE'S  STORY. 


295 


"  Did  you  see  that  lady  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  Mrs.  Argyle's  daughter,  the  nurse. 
Isn't  she  a  beautiful  girl  ?  " 

"  Is  she  their  own  daughter  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  for  all  I  know.  I'll  ask  Hester 
when  I  see  her, — and  now  come  to  think  of  it, 
Hester  did  say  she  was  adopted." 

"  Doesn't  she  make  you  think  of  Ethel  in  her 
younger  days  ?  " 

"  The  resemblance  is  certainly  very  striking." 

With  careful  nursing,  and  judicious  treatment, 
a  day  came  when  the  fever  subsided,  and  the 
poor  racked  body  began  to  mend  ;  though  it 
was  weeks  before  she  was  strong  enough  to 
stand  an  interview  with  Mr.  Dean.  Then  gently 
and  quietly  he  sat  and  listened  as  she  told  him 
the  whole  story,  she  living  again  through  those 
hours,  from  the  moment  when  she  noticed  the 
first  smell  of  smoke,  her  search  for  fire,  the  burst- 
ing of  flames  through  the  beautiful  polished 
floors,  her  removal  of  the  children  to  her  own 
home  only  a  few  blocks  away,  and  the  safe  de- 
posit there  of  the  jewels  and  box  of  valuables 
which  always  stood  in  the  little  escritoire.  Over 
and  over  again  she  paused  to  give  vent  to  the 
tears  which,  in  her  weak  condition,  lay  very  near 


296  STOKM-SIVEPT. 


the  surface.  Then  she  told  him  of  the  hiding- 
place,  told  him  how  she  had  sat  for  years  in  that 
chair,  her  poor  feet  resting  on  that  footstool, 
never  dreaming  but  that  her  mother  had  told  her 
the  truth  ;  resting  secure  in  the  thought  that  the 
children  had  been  restored  to  their  parents  while 
she  lay  on  her  couch  unconscious  for  weeks,  and 
still  resting  in  that  belief  through  the  years  that 
followed  until  that  memorable  night  when,  under 
the  weird  flashing  of  the  northern  lights,  her 
mother  had  made  the  confession  which  still  re- 
mained so  much  of  a  mystery. 

Then  she  watched  Mr.  Dean  as  he  searched 
for  the  treasures.  She  had  never  had  the  heart 
to  do  so  herself.  He  brought  them  to  light 
much  as  one  would  open  along-closed  casket  to 
look  upon  the  face  of  the  long-ago  dead.  There 
were  the  papers  and  jewels,  proof  positive  that 
this  woman  was  the  genuine  Katie.  Then  she 
produced  the  bank  books,  with  the  interest  due 
on  them  since  a  short  time  before  her  mother's 
death.  Mr.  Dean  sat  back  in  his  chair,  passing 
his  hand  over  his  white  forehead,  and  through 
the  white  locks  of  hair.  This  was  a  case  such  as 
he  had  never  before  heard  of ;  and  to  him  it 
seemed  that  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to  search 


MR.  DEAN  HEARS  KATIE'S  STORY.          297 

through  all  the  orphan  asylum  records  in  the 
country.  Then  Katie  said,  "  Oh,  if  I  could  only 
hear  from  Matt  !  " 

Mr.  Dean  jumped  from  his  chair  as  a  great 
light  dawned  upon  him.  "  Is  Matthew  Sharon 
your  brother?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  not  seen  or  heard  from  him 
since  I  was  at  your  house ;  excepting  as  I  have 
told  you." 

Katie  had  inadvertently  called  him  "  my 
brother,"  all  through  the  narrative.  Mr.  Dean 
left  the  room  without  another  word.  He  walked 
out  of  the  house  as  though  treading  on  air  ;  on 
and  on-  he  went  straight  toward  home  and  out 
into  the  barn  and  garden  to  find  Matt.  When  he 
stood  before  him  his  first  question  was,  "  Matt, 
have  you  a  sister?"  Mr.  Dean's  face  was 
strangely  white  and  his  voice  strangely  hol- 
low. 

Matt  slowly  shook  his  head,  "  Not  that  I  re- 
member, Mr.  Dean."  "  Think  again,  Matt.  Try 
very  hard  to  remember  your  sister  Katie."  Matt 
put  his  hand  to  his  head,  and  racked  his  brain, 
but  the  old  memory  could  not  be  aroused. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  children  ?  " 

Matt  started  as  though  an  electric  shock  had 


298  STORM-SWEPT. 


passed  through  him  ;  his  face  lighted  up, — he 
was  about  to  speak.  "  Yes,  I  remember," — then 
his  face  clouded  over,  the  vision  on  memory's 
walls  had  vanished,  and  the  past  was  as  blank  as 
before. 

"  My  head,"  said  Matt,  "  Oh,  it  won't  let  me 
think.  There  was  something,  but  it  has  all 
gone, — all  gone  !  "  and  he  turned  to  his  work 
again. 

"  The  cruel  fates  are  against  me ; "  and  Re- 
ginald Dean  turned  away.  A  carriage-load  of 
young  people  was  coming  down  the  road.  What 
caused  them  to  start  a  song  as  they  approached 
Rose  Cliff,  and  why  was  the  song  which  floated 
to  Reginald  Dean's  ears  the  sweetly  sad  refrain 
of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home?"  He  turned  back  to 
Matt.  The  song  had  awakened  memories  by  the 
score.  This  mystery  must  be  unfathomed,  he 
must  probe  still  deeper.  "  Come,  Matt,  with  me." 
Matt  obeyed.  "  Go,  man,  to  your  room,  shave, 
put  on  your  best  clothes  and  make  yourself  look 
as  young  as  possible.  Report  to  me  as  soon  as 
you  are  ready.  I  will  await  you  in  the  study." 

Matt  wondered  what  was  in  the  air.  Some- 
thing unusual,  surely.  Mr.  Dean  impatiently 
walked  the  floor, — the  moments  seeming  hours. 


MR.  DEAlf  HEARS  KA  TIE"S  STOR  Y.          299 


They  both  reached  the  deacon's  before  Mr.  Dean 
had  thought  of  the  danger  which  such  a  step 
might  cause  to  Katie.  He  first  saw  Mrs.  Argyle 
and  Nellie,  briefly  stating  his  hope  that  Matt  was 
Katie's  brother.  He  would  try  and  break  the 
knowledge  of  his  presence  as  gently  as  possible. 
Mrs.  Argyle  and  Nellie  had  all  sorts  of  surmises 
as  to  Mr.  Dean's  visits  and  interviews,  but  had 
refrained  from  asking  any  questions.  This  was 
to  them  a  partial  solution*,  but  what  could  it  have 
to  do  with  this  past  trouble  of  Mr.  Dean's? 
Perhaps  they  should  learn  in  time.  At  any  rate 
they  would  keep  quiet  about  it;  for,  as  Mrs. 
Argyle  said,  "  A  still  tongue  makes  a  wise  head." 
Mr.  Dean  was  a  lawyer,  and  law  was  queer  busi- 
ness, and  it  was  no  more  strange  that  he  should 
find  a  clue  to  a  case  among  their  friends  than 
among  other  people ;  though  of  course  it  was  a 
little  exciting,  after  all.  But  he  kept  his  own 
counsel. 

Katie  had  never  spoken  of  her  brother,  and 
no  one  ever  thought  of  Matt,  as  any  one  but 
Matt.  He  was  known  by  that  name  to  all  the 
villagers,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  half  a  dozen  people 
knew  he  had  a  surname. 

Mr.   Dean   entered   Katie's   room   quietly  and 


306  STORM-SWEPT. 


alone.  She  sat  just  where  he  had  left  her,  a 
short  time  before.  She  seemed  surprised  to  see 
him  return  so  quickly,  and  her  eyes  sought  his 
face  as  though  she  would  read  there  the  reason 
for  this  interview.  He  seated  himself  beside 
her  and,  in  a  calm  soothing  tone,  addressed  her. 
"  Katie,  I  once  knew  a  man  who  was  a  sailor. 
His  name  was  Matthew  Sharon.  He  was  hurt 
on  his  last  voyage  by  a  falling  spar,  and  the  blow 
on  his  head  impaired  his-memory.  It  is  possible 
that  he  is  your  brother.  Could  you  bear  it  to  see 
him  soon?  He  is  at  present  in  my  employ,  and 
I  could  bring  him  here  to  see  you  in  a  few  mo- 
ments,— in  fact,  now,  if  you  so  desire." 

''  Bring  him  to  me." 

Then  Mr.  Dean  opened  the  door  and  admitted 
Matt.  They  studied  each  other's  faces  closely. 
"It  is  I,  Matt.  Don't  you  know  sister  Katie? 
Am  I  so  scarred,  then,  that  you  do  not  know 
me  ?  "  She  looked  pleadingly  into  the  man's  face. 
He  did  not  appear  to  recognize  her. 

"  Oh,  Matt,  it  is  you,  I  know.  What  did  you 
do  with  the  children  ?  " 

Again  that  light  in  his  face.  "  Oh,  yes,  I 
remember ;  "  and  then  that  vacant,  distressed 
look,  and  the  hand  passed  over  his  brow.  Then, 


MR.  DEAN  HEARS  KA  TIE'S  STOR  Y.          301 

"  It's  no  use,  I  can't  think  ;  "  and  he  looked 
helplessly  at  Mr.  Dean. 

"  Katie,  are  you'  sure  this  is  your  brother?  " 

"  It  is  my  brother  Matt,  but  what  can  we  do? 
He  cannot  tell  us  anything  ; "  and  poor  Katie 
wept  bitter  tears. 

"  Perhaps  he  will  be  able  to  in  time.  It  may 
come  to  him.  Don't  cry,  child,  I  am  sure  you 
have  done  what  you  could." 

And  this  from  Mr.  Dean.  How  kindly  he  was 
dealing  with  her,  and  she  had  so  dreaded  an  in- 
terview with  him.  But  Mr.  Dean  would  not  be 
thwarted  in  this  manner.  He  had  had  cases  be- 
fore this,  where  apparently  impregnable  barriers 
had  arisen  before  him,  and  he  had  hewn  them 
down  ;  and  in  this  case  he  would  not  be  non- 
plussed. Though  a  mystery  of  mysteries,  it  must 
be  solved.  Far  into  the  night  Reginald  Dean  sat 
and  thought,  racking  his  brain.  The  next  day 
passed  in  like  manner,  walking  the  floor,  sitting 
with  his  head  in  his  hands,  or  with  his  eyes  closed 
as  he  sat  thinking ;  thinking,  always  thinking  on 
this  question  of  vital  importance,  and  not  a  word 
of  it  breathed  indoors  for  fear  Mrs.  Dean  might  hear. 

The  next  afternoon  as  Aunt  Eunice  and  Mrs. 
Dean  sat  out  in  the  summer-house,  enjoying  as 


302  STORM-SWEPT. 


much  as  they  could  of  the  beautiful  summer  sun- 
shine falling  in  flecks  through  the  lattice  and  be- 
tween the  sprays  of  trumpet-creeper  that  twined 
and  climbed  about  the  sides  and  roof  of  the  cosy 
little  place,  she  picked  up  one  of  the  latest  maga- 
zines and  then  cut  the  leaves  with  her  scissors. 
Reginald  had  been  so  busy  he  had  neglected  to 
perform  this  little  act  in  which  he  always  took  so 
much  pleasure.  As  her  glance  rested  on  the 
page,  she  read,  "  Some  Late  Wonderful  Medical 
Achievements."  She  read  on.  Then  she  glanced 
over  the  top  of  her  book  at  Mrs.  Dean,  who  was 
sleeping  and  resting  comfortably. 

Aunt  Eunice  arose  slowly  and  walked  softly 
toward  the  house,  the  book  at  her  side  and  her 
finger  between  the  pages.  She  stepped  to  the 
study  door  and  rapped. 

"  Come  in." 

She  entered,  opened  the  book  before  Mr.  Dean 
and  placed  her  finger  on  the  title  of  the  article 
she  had  been  reading ;  then  went  back  to  her 
charge  in  the  summer-house.  Reginald  read  the 
article  through,  arose,  put  on  his  hat,  and  with 
the  book  in  his  hand,  turned  toward  Dr.  Strong's, 
saying  to  himself  as  he  did  so,  "  Trust  a  woman 
for  common  sense." 


THE  MYSTER  Y  UNKA  VEL LE D.  3 03 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    MYSTERY    UNRAVELLED. 

'  In  the  high  wet  grass  went  the  path  to  hide, 
And  the  low  wet  leaves  hung  over  ; 
But  I  could  not  pass  upon  either  side, 
For  I  found  myself,  when  I  vainly  tried, 
In  the  arms  of  my  steadfast  lover  ; 
And  he  held  me  there,  and  he  raised  my  head, 
While  he  closed  the  path  before  me  ; 
And  he  looked  down  into  my  eyes  and  said, — 
How  the  leaves  bent  down  from  the  boughs  o'erhead, 
To  listen  to  what  my  lover  said  ! 
Oh,  the  leaves  hanging  lowly  o'er  me  !  " 


LOWLY  the  moon  rose  behind  the  leafy 
branches  of  the  maples  and  birches, 
casting  its  shimmering  gleams  over  the 
dew-laden  grass.  The  scent  of  mign- 
onette, honeysuckle,  and  other  summer  blos- 
soms, blended  with  the  odor  of  new-mown  hay, 
lifted  one  on  wings  of  air  over  and  above  the 
things  of  earth,  plain  commonplaces  of  every-day 
life.  Down  the  broad  avenue,  under  those  low 
branching  trees,  before  them  the  rising  moon, 


304  STORM-SWEPT. 


around  them  the  scent  of  summer  flowers  all  the 
more  subtle  in  the  uncertain  glow  of  evening, 
moved  two  forms  slowly  and  thoughtfully.  It 
had  been  a  day  of  anxiety,  a  day  on  whose  mo- 
ments hung  weal  or  woe  ;  hope  or  despair,  for 
several  people. 

Arm  in  arm,  keeping  step  to  the  chirping  of  the 
crickets  and  the  katydids,  now  under  the  shadow, 
and  again  in  the  full  gleam  of  the  moonlight 
slanting  from  a  halo  of  brown-tinted  clouds,  a 
bright  and  beautiful  portal  widening  and  widen- 
ing until  earth-dwellers  seemed  to  stand  upon  the 
threshold  of  the  moon  world.  Such  a  calm  and 
stillness  pervaded  the  atmosphere  that  one's  heart 
seemed  almost  to  cease  beating;  such  a  holy 
sense  of  rest,  as  of  one  being  lifted  heavenward, 
and  the  passing  of  the  day,  had  led  these  two 
into  this  state  of  hallowed  expectancy.  They 
were  both  waiting  for  something  about  to  happen, 
and  that  sense  of  nearness  which  steals  over  one 
at  such  moments  seemed  pervading  the  air,  caus- 
ing one  to  wish  that  those  moments  might  be 
lengthened  into  hours  ;  for  back  of  all  the  hope 
was  a  half  dread  that  the  something  whispered  of 
by  the  night  breezes,  might  not  be  just  what  one 
most  hoped  for  after  all.  They  had  reached  Rose 


THE  MYSTERY  UNRAVELLED.  305 


Cliff,  this  pair  who  had  been  walking  silently  in 
the  moonlight.  As  they  approached  the  porch, 
Doctor  Ralph  said,  "  I  hear  Mrs.  Delamere  has 
arrived  with  her  little  girl."  It  seemed  as  though 
Nellie's  heart  ceased  beating  for  the  moment, 
then  she  said,  in  as  calm  a  voice  as  she  could  com- 
mand, "  Yes,  she  will  make  us  quite  a  visit,  I 
hope." 

"  Nellie,  why  did  you  not  tell  ~me  ?  " 

Ralph  raised  her  face  toward  his  own,  and  the 
moonlight  shone  full  upon  it  now,  as  he  held  one 
hand  over  each  blushing  cheek  and  rosy  ear. 

She  did.  not  speak,  but  the  full  lips  quivered, 
and  the  gray  eyes  had  in  them  a  suspicious 
sparkle. 

"  Dear  heart,  I  may  speak  now,  may  I  not ;  now 
that  I  know  there  is  no  barrier  ?  " 

Not  a  word  yet  passed  those  quivering  lips. 

"  Why  must  I  plead  ?  Nellie,  God  knows  I 
love  you  ;  knows  I  have  loved  you  for  years.  Has 
not  your  own  heart  told  you  the  same  long  ago  ?  " 

He  had  released  the  face  when  the  shining 
tears  one  by  one  rolled  down  on  to  his  hands  ; 
and  passing  his  arm  about  her  drew  her  to  him, 
and  raising  one  throbbing  little  hand  to  his  lips 
held  it  there. 

20 


306  STORM-SWEPT. 

Did  she  imagine  that  one  hot  tear  fell  upon  it  ? 
She  did  not  draw  it  away.  She  was  content,  aye, 
content  to  rest  there  in  his  arms  without  saying 
one  word  or  answering  one  of  the  pleading  ques- 
tions which  he  was  asking  her.  Then,  loosening 
his  hold  on  the  little  hand,  he  again  turned  the 
curly  head  resting  on  his  shoulder  so  that  he  could 
look  into  her  face.  "  Nellie,  I  must  have  an  an- 
swer. You  lead  me  to  hope.  Tell  me,  darling, 
will  you  be  my  love,  my  life  ?  "  He  placed  his  lips 
upon  hers,  and  in  the  responding  kiss  received  his 
answer.  Then  both  doctor  and  nurse  came  back 
to  earth. 

"  My  time  must  certainly  be  up,  Ralph ;  and 
Aunt  Eunice  will  be  expecting  me  on  duty." 

He  took  out  his  watch.  "Oh,  you  have  ten 
minutes  more,  don't  go  yet.  Matt  is  resting 
confortably,  I  know,  and  this  happiness  has  been 
too  long  deferred  for  me  to  let  you  go  so  soon." 

The  ten  minutes  passed  quickly,  and  Nellie, 
with  a  very  rosy  face,  tore  herself  from  his  em- 
brace and  went  back  to  her  post  of  duty.  By 
the  time  she  had  smoothed  out  her  hair,  and 
donned  her  uniform,  sober,  sedate  Doctor  Ralph 
was  entering  the  sick  room.  The  patient  was 
doing  nicely;  fully  as  well  as  could  be  expected. 


THE  MYSTERY  UNRAVELLED.  307 


If  the  operation  which  had  been  performed  that 
day  were  only  successful,  how  happy  it  would 
make  Mr.  Dean  !  How  Nellie  wondered  what 
mystery  it  was  which  was  wrapped  up  in  that 
poor  dented  brain  which  the  doctors  had  that 
day  tried  to  help  back  to  its  normal  condition. 
Mrs.  Dean  had  been  invited  over  to  Mrs.  Cooper's 
for  a  few  days.  Hester's  quick  outspoken  manner, 
with  its  hearty  impulsiveness,  had  won  Mrs. 
Dean  for  a  friend  ;  and  she  was  perfectly  satisfied 
to  go  there  for  a  few  days,  just  for  a  change,  she 
said ;  and  so  the  operation  had  been  performed 
at  Mr.  Dean's,  and  with  Nellie  and  Aunt  Eunice 
for  nurses,  and  two  doctors  to  regularly  attend 
the  case,  they  hoped  for  the  best. 

How  Nellie  did  long  to  fly  home  sometimes,  to 
spend  the  day  with  Olga  and  the  little  Alma;  but 
it  was  duty  first,  and  an  hour  now  and  then  was 
all  she  could  spend  at  home.  Alma  was  a  very 
forward  child  and  had  learned  to  walk  quite  early. 
Scotch  oatmeal  had  helped  make  a  sturdy  little 
body  for  her,  and  the  air  at  Primrose  Bank  pre- 
cisely agreed  with  her.  Grandma  Argyle,  as  she 
called  herself  to  the  baby,  had  made  Alma  a  large 
rag  doll  with  wonderful  hair  composed  of  a  piece 
of  black  astrachan.  Its  face  was  of  pink  surah 


308  STORM-SWEPT. 


silk,  while  old  kid  gloves  covered  the  arms  and 
formed  hip-leggins,  for  the  wonderful  McGinty, 
which  Alma  insisted  upon  calling  the  baby. 
Deacon  Argyle  laughed  till  he  shook  off  his 
glasses  to  see  the  child  cut  up  her  pranks  with 
the  doll.  She  was  so  old-fashioned,  they  all  said. 

Now  it  happened  that  Doctor  Strong  had  a  dog 
whose  name  was  Bruno;  and,  unfortunately,  Bruno 
had  a  weakness  for  dolls.  More  than  one  child 
in  the  village  mourned  the  loss  of  a  doll  which 
Bruno  had  taken  a  fancy  to,  and  carried  off. 

It  was  a  few  days  after  the  operation.  Nellie 
was  on  duty  in  the  sick  room  at  Mr.  Dean's  ;  and 
Aunt  Eunice  was  taking  a  comfortable  nap,  in 
her  own  room.  At  Primrose  Bank  everything 
was  as  quiet  and  restful  as  possible  on  this  late 
summer  afternoon.  Olga  was  busy  with  her 
painting  in  the  little  sewing  alcove  which  opened 
off  from  the  sitting-room  where  Alma  was  playing 
with  McGinty.  Olga  became  very  much  engrossed 
with  her  work.  She  was  putting  the  finishing 
touches  to  the  portrait  on  which  she  was  at  woik 
when  she  last  saw  Clyde.  She  was  living  over 
those  unhappy  moments  as  she  worked  ;  and  her 
mind  was  across  the  ocean.  Baby  Alma  took 
advantage  of  the  quiet.  She  walked  out  onto  the 


THE  MYSTERY  UNRAVELLED.  309 

west  door-stone  and  sat  there  for  a  time.  Then 
she  ventured  down  to  the  gate.  Old  Doctor 
Strong  was  on  horseback  riding  leisurely  along 
some  distance  up  the  road.  Bruno  came  dashing 
down  the  street  ahead  of  him.  Alma  had  depo- 
sited McGinty  at  the  base  of  one  of  the  maple 
trees  that  stood  just  outside  the  gate  at  the  foot 
of  the  primrose  slope  ;  and  the  child  was  busy 
picking  the  blue  asters  which  grew  along  the 
edge  of  the  sidewalk.  Bruno  saw  his  opportunity, 
and,  seizing  the  doll,  was  off  down  the  street  and 
over  the  meadow  with  McGinty's  red  dress  show- 
ing at  every  spring  he  made.  Alma  travelled 
after  him  as  fast  as  her  little  feet  could  carry  her. 
Bruno  ran  through  the  brook  which  crossed  the 
road.  Would  the  child  take  to  the  bridge,  or 
attempt  to  cross  as  the  dog  had  done  ?  The  little 
one  saw  no  danger,  and  was  soon  trying  to  ford 
the  brook  ;  but  the  water  was  deep,  her  little 
foot  slipped,  and  she  fell  face  down  in  the  pool. 
The  Doctor  had  not  yet  turned  the  bend  in  the 
road,  for  he  was  so  deep  in  a  brown  study  that 
he  had  seen  nothing  of  what  was  passing ;  but  a 
rescuer  was  at  hand.  Crossing  the  meadow  was 
a  woman,  and  she  saw  the  little  one  fall.  Her  feet 
seemed  to  turn  to  wings,  for  she  was  at  the  brook- 


3 1  o  STOA'Uf-S  WEPT. 


side  almost  as  soon  as  the  child  fell.  As  the 
doctor  came  in  sight  he  saw  the  woman  emerge 
from  the  brook  with  the  child  in  her  arms.  What 
was  his  surprise  to  behold  Mrs.  Dean.  Before 
he  could  speak  she  held  up  one  cautioning  finger. 
"  Sh  !  It  is  my  little  Angie." 

"  Whom  ?  "  said  the  doctor  in  astonishment. 

"  Why,  my  little  Angie,  who  was  lost  long  ago." 

The  doctor  knew  she  was  to  be  humored,  so  he 
said,  "  Indeed,  I  am  very  glad  you  have  found 
her.  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  I  think  the  dog  took  her  doll  and  she 
followed  him  through  the  brook.  He  passed  by 
me  dripping,  with  the  doll  in  his  mouth." 

The  child  was  crying  now,  and  calling  "Mamma." 

"  I  am  mamma,  Angie,  don't  you  know 
mamma?  " 

But  the  child  said,  "  I  want  my  own  mamma 
at  Grandma  Argyle's." 

With  a  little  coaxing,  the  doctor  persuaded 
Mrs.  Dean  to  walk  back  to  Mrs.  Argyle's,  where 
they  had  only  just  missed  the  child,  and  were 
about  to  search  for  her.  Olga  was  coming  down 
the  path  as  they  reached  the  gate.  She  held  out 
her  arms  to  take  the  child,  but  the  doctor's  quick 
glance  caught  her  eye. 


THE  MYSTER  Y  UNRA  FELLED.  3 1 1 

"  Mrs.  Dean,  this  is  Mrs.  Delamere.  Let  us  go 
in  for  a  few  moments.  Perhaps  they  can  let  us 
have  some  dry  garments  for  the  child."  Mrs. 
Dean  entered  the  house,  but  would  not  let  the 
little  one  be  taken  from  her. 

"  Please  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Delamere  ;  but  this  is 
my  little  girl  whom  I  lost  some  time  ago.  I  have 
been  looking  for  her  for  years,  and  just  found 
her  in  the  brook  where  she  had  fallen.  My  own 
little  Angie." 

Mrs.  Dean  seemed  perfectly  sane  in  her  actions. 
She  looked  from  Olga  to  the  doctor,  and  again 
to  Mrs.  Argyle,  with  such  a  contented,  peaceful 
expression,  that  it  seemed  wicked  to  dispel  the 
illusion. 

"  Make  Mrs.  Dean  as  comfortable  as  you  can, 
please.  She  went  into  the  brook  after  the  baby, 
and  her  feet  must  be  soaking  wet.  I  will  ride 
around  Mrs.  Cooper's  way,  and  get  her  to  stay 
with  Matt  while  I  send  Nellie  over  ;  and  after  a 
little  we'll  try  and  get  Mrs.  Dean  home." 

As  the  doctor  turned  about,  his  eyes  fell  on 
the  picture  which  stood  on  the  easel  in  the 
alcove.  He  started,  and  looked  wonderingly 
from  Olga  to  Mrs.  Argyle. 

"  Pardon  me,  but  whose  work  is  that  ?  " 


312  STORM-SWEPT. 


"  Oh,  it  is  a  face  which  has  always  impressed 
me,  and  I  concluded  to  put  it  on  canvas,  and 
see  if  I  could  get  rid  of  it.  Is  it  not  a  striking 
face?" 

"  It  certainly  is.  I  had  heard  you  were  an 
artist,  and  now  I  believe  it.  Well,  I  must  hurry 
on  or  some  one  will  be  very  much  alarmed,"  and 
off  he  cantered,  saying  to  himself  as  he  rode 
along,  "  Can  it  be  possible  ?  yet  truth  is  some- 
times stranger  than  fiction." 

He  paused  at  Mrs.  Cooper's  a  moment  on  the 
way,  and  said,  "  Don't  worry  about  your  charge, 
Mrs.  Cooper.  She  is  safe  at  Mrs.  Argyle's." 

"Do  you  mean  Mrs.  Dean?  She  is  taking  a 
nap." 

"  Well,  not  if  I  am  in  my  right  mind,  for  she 
just  picked  Mrs.  Delamere's  little  girl  out  of  the 
brook  as  I  came  along :  and  I  have  only  a  few 
moments  ago  left  her  at  the  deacon's." 

Hester  held  up  both  hands  and  gasped,  "  For 
the  land  sakes  !  " 

Doctor  Strong  left  her  wondering  and  rode  on 
to  Mr.  Dean's.  He  hitched  his  horse  at  the  gate, 
and  walked  unbidden  into  the  house.  He  gave 
one  rap  at  the  study-door  and  entered  the  room. 
Mr.  Dean  was  there.  The  doctor  sat  down  and 


THE  MYSTERY  UNRAVELLED.  313 

waited  a  moment  in  silence.  It  was  not  his 
custom  to  come  in  so  quietly. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Doctor?  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  anything  is  the  matter 
or  not." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Your  wife  thinks  she  has  found  her  little 
Angie." 

Mr.  Dean  started  to  his  feet. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean  just  this.  Mrs.  Dean,  not  half  an 
hour  ago,  fished  Mrs.  Delamere's  little  girl  out  of 
the  brook,  and  insists  that  the  child  is  hers.  She 
won't  even  let  the  mother  take  it,  and  the  child 
after  the  first  fright  was  over,  seems  contented  to 
let  her  cuddle  her.  There  is  a  picture  at  Mrs. 
Argyle's  I  want  you  to  see,  too.  Get  your  car- 
riage and  drive  over.  Mrs.  Cooper,  for  all  I 
know,  is  standing  at  the  post-office  door,  wonder- 
ing how  Mrs.  Dean  got  away  without  her  know- 
ing it." 

"  That  is  very  strange ;  Ethel  always  looks 
closely  at  all  the  children  she  meets,  but  never 
has  taken  one  in  her  arms  before." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  anything  about  your 
trouble,  whatever  it  is  that  you  are  trying  to  get 


314  STORM-SWEPT. 


at  the  bottom  of,  but  your  wife  certainly  thinks 
that  child  is  her  own ;  and  she  looks  and  acts  per- 
fectly sane.  It  would  do  your  heart  good  to  see 
her  mother  the  child." 

"  Who  is  this  Mrs.  Delamere  ?  " 
t     "  She  was    Olga    Mitchell,  the    daughter  of  a 
minister  who  was  here  for  several  years.      She 
and  Nellie  Argyle  were  boon  companions." 

"  Is  Nellie  Argyle  the  own  child  of  the  deacon 
and  his  wife  ?  " 

"  No,  she  was  adopted  some  eighteen  years  ago 
or  more,  I  should  say." 

"  Where  was  she  gotten  ?  " 

"  From   the    Faith    Orphan  Asylum  in  N — 
H ." 

"  Guess  we'd  better  take  Aunt  Eunice  along 
with  us.  She  can  coax  Ethel  when  no  one  else 
can." 

Mrs.  Dean  looked  up  with  a  happy  smile  when 
her  husband  entered  the  room. 

"  Oh,  Rex,  I  have  found  Angie  and  I  am  so 
happy.  You  may  give  her  one  kiss,  but  don't 
take  her  from  me.  I  cannot  bear  it  yet." 

He  stood  looking  at  the  child.  The  great 
tears  rolled  down  his  face,  and  he  did  not  try  to 
hide  them. 


THE  MYS TER  Y  UNRA  VELLED.  3 1 5 


"  Thank  God,  the  mystery  will  soon  be  solved. 
If  I  did  not  realize  that  years  had  passed,  I  too 
should  say,  '  It  is  my  little  Angie.'  " 

''Yes,  papa." 

There  was  a  hush  like  that  of  death.  Mr.  Dean 
looked  around  the  room.  "Who  spoke?  or  did 
I  imagine  I  heard  a  voice  ?  " 

The  speaker  was  revealed  in  the  confused  and 
blushing  face  of  Mrs.  Delamere. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Dean,  but  I  do  not  know 
what  impelled  me  to  speak.  I  could  not  help  it, 
for  your  assertion  seemed  directed  to  me.  I 
never  saw  you  before,  but  is  not  this  very  much 
like  you." 

Olga  brought  the  portrait  within  view  of  all  in 
the  room.  At  that  moment  some  one  came  along 
the  garden  path.  It  was  Nellie,  who  had  cut 
across  through  the  meadow,  and  now  in  through 
the  open  window  floated  the  words  she  was 
singing, 

"  Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  though  I  may  roam, 
Be  it  ever  so  humble  there's  no  place  like  home." 

In  another  moment  she  stood  in  the  doorway. 
What  was  the  meaning  of  this  congregation  of 
people  ?  She  looked  wonderingly  from  one  to 


316  STORM-SWEPT. 

the  other.  Then  her  eyes  rested  on  the  portrait, 
and  again  sought  Mr.  Dean's  face. 

"Whose  picture  is  it,  Nellie?" 

"  Why,  Mr.  Dean's,  of  course  ;  only  his  hair  is 
gray,  and  you  have  painted  it  brown." 

"  We  were  all  thinking  there  was  a  striking 
resemblance." 

"  Mr.  Dean  turned  to  Olga. 

"  Who  was  your  father  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"I  understood  you  were  Dr.  Mitchell's  daugh- 
ter." 

"  So  did  I  until  I  was  married ;  and  then  they 
told  me  that  in  18 —  they  adopted  me  from  the 
Faith  Orphan  Asylum  in  N H ." 

Deacon  Argyle  stepped  to  the  secretary  and 
opened  a  small  drawer.  He  drew  therefrom  an 
old  red  wallet,  and,  unrolling  it,  took  out  a  piece 
of  yellow  paper  and  handed  it  to  Mr.  Dean.  His 
hands  shook  as  though  with  the  palsy. 

"  She  has  never  known  it,  Mr.  Dean  ;  but  I 
shall  have  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  now.  If 
you've  lost  one  daughter  I  guess  you've  lost  two  ; 
for  our  Nellie  is  own  sister  to  Olga  accordin*  to 
this." 

Through  eager  eyes  Mr.  Dean  read  the  adoption 


THE  MYSTERY  UNRAVELLED. 


317 


,  rtnd  \n  it  was  the  statement  that  the  older 
s>f  the  two  .children  who  had  been  found  on  the 
asylum  steps  an  such  a  day,  had  been  adopted  by 
Robert  A.  Mitchell,  but  he  wished  the  girls  never 
to  know  they  weie  related  ;  and  that  was  Deacon 
Argyle's  secret,  gua/ded  even  from  his  wife. 

"  We  are  sisters,  theii,  as  Marie  said  ;  "  the  girls 
spoke  in  one  breath. 

Mrs.  Argyle  had  been  gone  from  the  room  for 
a  moment.  She  returned  with  a  small  parcel, 
and,  unrolling  it,  laid  on  the  table  before  them 
several  tiny  garments.  Aunt  Eunice  came  for- 
ward and  undertook  to  examine  them,  but  the 
tears  made  her  eyeglasses  so  misty  that  yhe  could 
hardly  see.  She  picked  up  the  little  shirt  and 
handed  it  to  Nellie. 

"  If  I  made  it,  there  is  a  small  E.  D.  in  white 
silk  on  the  point  under  the  shoulder  button." 
Nellie  turned  the  point  over  and  walked  around 
the  room  showing  the  letters  to  every  one  there 

"  That  stands  for  Evelyn  Dean,  and  you  arc 
she." 

Nellie's  breast  rose  and  fell  as  the  great  sob\ 
strove  for  mastery ;  and  then  the  two  girls 
wrapped  in  each  other's  arms,  wept  out  their  joy. 

"  Now  we  have  two  mothers  and  two  fathers, 


318  STORM-SWEPT. 


are  \ve  not  rich  ? "  And  they  both  bent  over 
Mrs.  Dean,  kissing  now  her  happy  face,  and  again 
that  of  little  Alma. 

"You  shall  be  Angie  after  this,  my  darling," 
said  Olga;  "  for  you  are  the  angel  who  brought  us 
our  own  mother  and  father." 

."  Then  Nellie  went  back  to  Mrs.  Argyle. 

"I  shall  not  love  you  any  less,  mother." 

"Oh,  but  you  will  be  leaving  us." 

Then,  blushing  and  whispering,  Nellie  said,  "  I 
should  have  to  leave  you  soon  anyway,  for  Ralph 
wants  me  so  much  ;  "  and  Mrs.  Argyle's  kiss  was 
a  benediction  itself,  then  her  answer,  "  I  am  more 
than  satisfied." 

But  time  waits  for  no  one,  and  the  night  was 
drawing  on.  Mrs.  Dean  would  stay  with  the  baby 
and  Olga ;  while  Nellie  went  back  to  her  post, 
not  only  as  nurse,  but  as  daughter  of  the  house. 
Heaven  had  been  more  kind  to  her  after  all.  As 
the  days  passed  Matt  grew  stronger,  and  one  day 
was  able  to  walk  down  to  the  study  to  see  Mr. 
Dean. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  I  can  remember  about 
those  children  now.  I  took  them  to  the  Faith 

Orphan  Asylum  in  N H on  the  — th  of 

April,  1 8— ," 


THE  MYS  TEK  Y  UNRA  FELL  ED.  3 1 9 

"  You  are  right,  Matt,  and  the  children  are  all 
right,  too.  Katie  is  as  happy  as  a  lark  ;  and  Doc- 
tor Strong  is  going  to  see  if  he  can  do  as  much 
for  Katie's  feet  as  he  has  for  your  brain.  Now, 
don't  worry  yourself  at  all  about  anything,  but 
try  and  get  well  as  fast  as  you  can." 

And  Mr.  Dean  would  not  let  him  talk  about  it 
at  ali.  He  did  send  to  the  hospital  for  another 
nurse,  for  he  insisted  that  Nellie  was  all  tired  out 
and  needed  rest ;  though  she  assured  him  she 
was  not  at  all  tired,  but  the  doctor  seconded  Mr. 
Dean's  motion,  and  she  had  to  obey. 


320 


STORM-SWEPT. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ALL    THINGS      COMES     TO     HIM      WHO     PATIENT 

WAITS. 

"  But  the  speed  was  high,  and  the  danger  nigh ; 
And  Death  was  waiting  to  build  his  pyre." 

ONALD,  if  you  do  not  bring  the  baby 
to  me  to-day  I  shall  undertake  to  go 
and  get  her  myself.  Understand,  I 
shall  put  up  with  this  nonsense  no 
longer.  It  will  do  me  good  to  see  her,  I  know. 
I  am  consumed  with  ennui,  and  must  have  some 
diversion."  The  speaker  leaned  back  in  his  easy 
chair  and  puffed  away  at  a  cigar.  One  leg  was  still 
bandaged  with  splints,  and  it  was  a  vain  threat 
that  he  would  go  down  the  rocky  road  to  Don- 
ald's cottage  after  the  child. 

"Aweel,  my  laird,  you  cannot  see  the  bairn." 
"  Cannot  see  the  child  ?     Upon  my  word  that 
js  cool !  " 


ALL  THINGS  COME  TO  HIM  WHO  WAITS.  321 

"  I  speak  the  truth,  my  lord." 

Sir  Albany  sat  as  near  bolt  upright  as  he  could. 
"  What  do  you  mean,  man  ?  You  have  kept 
putting  off  bringing  Alma  to  me  because  the  doc- 
tor said  I  must  not  be  disturbed  or  worried  in  the 
least,  and  now  you  have  the  audacity  to  tell  me 
to  my  face  that  I  cannot  see  the  child  ;  Ha  !  but 
that  is  too  much." 

"  I  may  as  weel  tell  it  ye,  Sir  Albany.  The 
mither  cam'  an'  took  awa'  the  bairn  while  ye 
were  nearer  dead  than  alive." 

"  Took  the  child  !     Away,  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Aye,  sir,  took  it  away  to  America.  There, 
I've  gone  and  made  a  fool  of  myself,  tellin'  ye; " 
and  Donald  reached  Sir  Albany  in  time  to  keep 
him  from  falling  from  his  chair.  He  had  tried  to 
arise  and  had  sunken  in  a  faint,  whether  from 
alarm  or  pain,  Donald  did  not  know. 

After  a  time  Clyde  regained  consciousness,  and 
his  rage  was  unbounded  when  he  learned  the 
child  was  in  reality  gone  beyond  his  call. 

"  Well,  you  have  played  a  pretty  trick  on  me ; 
I  wouldn't  have  had  it  happen  for  every  paltry 
dollar  in  this  old  rookery.  Taken  my  child,  and 
gone  to  America !  By  Heaven,  but  I'll  have  her 
yet ! " 


322 


STORM-SWEPT. 


"  Your  wife  cam'  to  see  you  while  you  were 
ill." 

"  She  did  ?     And  why  did  she  not  see  me  ?" 

"  I  dinna  ken.  She  was  in  this  house,  aye,  in 
the  next  room,  and  I  think  she  heard  you  say  you 
didn't  want  to  see  her  ;  so  she  went  away." 

"  She  was  quite  right  to  do  so;  but  she  had 
no  business  to  take  the  child." 

"  Tut,  tut,  sir !  it  was  as  muckle  her  bairn  as 
yours." 

"  I  say  she  had  no  right  to  take  it,  and  have  it 
I  will  or  die  in  the  attempt." 

The  old  dragon-blood  was  again  thoroughly 
aroused,  and  this  was  the  man  who  could  be 
angelic  at  times,  but  when  anything  crossed  his 
path  the  angel's  wings  changed  into  dragon's 
talons.  He  was  moved  by  impulses,  now  as 
ever,  even  as  we  have  seen  him,  over  and  over 
again,  serving  the  first  command  of  the  sovereign 
Self,  who  alone  reigned  supreme  in  his  nature. 

When  he  rode  in  a  gondola  over  the  shim- 
mering waves  of  the  Venetian  lagoons;  when  he 
thought  of  her  whom  he  had  taken  to  love  and 
to  cherish  until  death  should  part  them ;  the 
the  angel  sleeper  awakened,  bade  him  hasten 
back  to  right  the  wrong  he  had  done  to  that 


ALL  THINGS  COME  TO  HIM  WHO  WAITS,  323 


trusting  wife  ;  but  when  again,  on  his  return,  he 
found  her  gone,  then  the  angel  folded  its  wings, 
and  the  dark  Dragon  of  Armadale  spread  its 
pinions  over  him,  and  ruled  the  creature  tossed 
by  the  passions  of  love  and  hate, — those  two 
eternal  foes.  His  very  restlessness  kept  him  an 
invalid  longer  than  he  would  otherwise  have  been  : 
but  time,  the  healer,  still  performed  his  duty,  and 
once  again  Sir  Albany  rode  down  the  mountain- 
side, and  away  from  the  castle  of  Armadale.  As 
he  passed  under  the  portcullis  he  said  to  Donald, 
"  I  shall  come  back  with  my  baby  Alma,  depend 
upon  it,  man  ;  or  else  you  will  never  again  have  to 
draw  the  bridge  for  Sir  Albany,  Baron  of  Arma- 
dale." 

Then,  like  the  wind,  he  rode  down  the  steep 
pathway.  Old  Donald  turned  back  to  his  good 
wife  Jean  who  stood  in  the  shadow  behind  him 
and  said,  "  Aweel,  lass,  if  he  goes  at  that  pace 
from  here  to  America,  we  have  in  truth  seen  the 
last  of  him  ;  "  and  she  answered  as  she  bent  her 
head  and  clasped  her  hands, 

"  An'  the  Lord  will  it,  may  he  never  take  the 
bairn  fra  its  mither !  " 

And  Donald  answered,  "  Amen  !  " 

It  was  but  a  few  days  after  when  a  message 


324  STORM-SWEPT. 


came  to  Primrose  Bank.  Olga  received  it,  and 
when  she  read  it  both  she  and  the  cablegram 
fell  to  the  floor.  Mrs.  Argyle  heard  the  sound 
and  came  running  to  learn  the  cause.  The  yellow 
paper  told  the  story,  "  Sir  Albany  is  on  his  way 
to  take  the  child.  Donald  MacDuff." 

Then  Mrs.  Argyle's  common  sense  stood  her  in 
good  stead.  She  dispatched  a  messenger  for  Leon 
Thorpe,  and,  when  he  came,  she  showed  him  the 
cablegram. 

"  Can  you  think  of  what  ought  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  He  is  on  his  way  here." 

"Yes!" 

Leon  looked  at  his  watch.  "  The  last  train 
leaves  at  6 :  52  and  it  is  after  five  now.  I  shall 
have  time  to  consult  with  no  one.  I  can  do 
nothing  but  shadow  him  and  see  that  he  does  not 
abduct  the  child.  Keep  close  watch  of  the  baby, 
and  for  Heaven's  sake  impart  your  courage  to 
Olga." 

They  clasped  hands.  "  I  wish  you  God-speed  ;  " 
and  the  6:  52  carried  Leon  Thorpe  on  his  mis- 
sion. 

It  was  he  who  stood  on  the  dock  as  the  great 
steamships  were  unburdened  of  their  human 
freight.  Should  he  know  Clyde  Delamere  after 


ALL  THINGS  COME  TO  HIM  WHO  WAITS.  325 


this  lapse  of  years  ?  And  who  should  question 
whether  that  face  were  not  indelibly  stamped  on 
his  mind  ;  the  face  of  the  man  who  had  blighted 
his  life.  Leon  Thorpe  missed  not  a  steamer. 
Patiently  he  stood  until  the  last  wave  of  the  sea 
of  upturned  faces  had  surged  over  the  docks. 
There  were  no  other  steamers  due  for  two  days, 
and  still  the  object  of  his  search  had  not  been 
discovered.  He  might  take  a  run  home,  and  see 
how  Olga  was.  Dear  heart,  what  a  pity  she 
should  be  so  troubled  !  It  was  a  wild  night,  this 
one  on  which  Leon  Thorpe  turned  his  steps  home- 
ward. He  could  not  have  stayed  in  the  city  for 
any  possible  reason.  He  was  seized  with  a  wild 
and  burning  desire  to  go  home,  to  go  to  Mrs. 
Argyle's  and  assure  himself  that  Olga  and  Alma 
were  safe  and  well.  So  he  went.  How  the  storm 
beat,  and  how  the  wind  howled  and  shrieked,  as 
the  train  sped  over  the  almost  submerged  tracks  ; 
then  again  out  over  slippery  trestles,  where  it 
seemed  that  the  storm-fiend  would  wrench  the 
heavy  train  from  the  track ;  rattling,  shrieking, 
moaning, — oh,  what  sounds  went  through  the 
ears  of  the  passengers,  as  though  all  the  fiends  of 
the  air  were  engaged  in  their  wild  orgies. 

Still  on  sped  the    train.     Whether   the   wires 


326  STORM-SWEPT. 


were  down  nobody  knew,  only  this.  Leon 
stepped  to  the  door  to  see  if  he  could  tell  about 
where  they  were,  for  the  time  seemed  intermi- 
nable since  they  had  made  a  stop  at  a  station.  As 
he  stood  on  the  platform,  and  through  the  inky 
blackness  saw  the  distant  gleaming  of  city  lights, 
he  felt  a  lurch,  quick  as  thought  looked  back  into 
the  car  and — Merciful  Heavens  !  it  was  being 
telescoped  by  the  tender.  Then  Leon  knew  no 
more. 

One  morning  when  he  awoke,  it  was  to  find 
himself  being  tenderly  watched  over  by  a  uni- 
formed nurse.  He  had  to  stop  and  think  things 
over  a  little,  but  the  last  thing  he  remembered 
was  seeing  the  tender  crashing  through  the  car 
directly  toward  him.  He  attempted  to  raise  his 
right  arm  t'o  hide  the  sight.  It  was  not  there  to 
raise.  Then  he  said  to  the  nurse,  "  Did  I  lose 
it  in  the  accident?  " 

"Yes!" 

"  Am  I  hurt  very  much  otherwise  ?  " 

"  I  think  not." 

"Oh,  but  I  should  have  been  home  to-day! 
Poor  little  Olga." 

"  Were  you  in  company  with  some  one?  " 

"No!" 


ALL   THINGS  COME   TO  HIM  WHO   WAITS. 


327 


"  Have  you  friends  you  would  like  to  have 
know  you  are  here?" 

"  Does  no  one  know,  then  ?  " 

"  You  have  been  here  nearly  a  week.  There 
was  nothing  on  your  clothing  to  tell  your  name 
or  address." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it  is  best  to  tell  them  or 
not." 

"You  are  getting  along  very  nicely  no-v. 
Suppose  you  give  me  your  name,  and  then  it  will 
be  time  for  the  medicine  again." 

Leon  did  so,  and  was  soon  sleeping  under  t!.e 
influence  of  the  narcotic.  A  nurse  came  wulki:  g 
down  the  aisle  between  the  beds. 

"  Nellie  Argyle  !  " 

"Yes,  I  am  back  on  duty  today,  and  am  sen' 
to  relieve  you.'" 

"  Here  is  a  poor  fellow  who  has  just  rer 
consciousness  enough  to  give  his  name.     I. 
a    victim   of    the    wreck.      He   comes    from     i. 
same  place  you  do, — Westbridge,  and  his  nan;. 
is  Leon  Thorpe." 

Nellie  caught  at  the  iron  foot-rail  of  the  bed. 

"Why,  I  thought  he  was  in  the  city.     No  <  !i 
at  home  knows  it." 

"For    the  very    reason    the   man  was  amo..0 


328  STORM-SWEPT. 


the  seriously  injured,  and  has  just  been  allowed 
to  come  out  from  under  the  influence.  He  has 
lost  an  arm." 

"  Poor  Leon  ! "  And  Nellie  took  her  place 
beside  the  sleeper. 

She  studied  the  record,  and  looked  to  see  that 
everything  was  as  it  should  be.  Then  she  made 
the  round  of  the  ward  in  charge.  One  sleeper 
was  much  injured.  The  record  showed  a  very 
high  temperature,  and  the  head  was  bandaged, 
while  a  bag  of  ice  lay  over  the  feverish  brain. 

"  This  poor  fellow,"  said  the  nurse  who  was 
just  leaving  Nellie  in  charge,  "  I  haven't  much 
hopes  of.  He  was  hurt  internally.  His  fever 
runs  quite  high,  you  see.  We  don't  know  what  to 
do  about  him." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  Nobody  knows  anything  about  him  only  that 
he  had  a  very  odd  ring  on  his  finger." 

Such  a  lump  rose  in  Nellie's  throat  she  could 
not  speak  for  an  instant.  Then  she  choked  it 
back.  "  Where  is  it,  the  ring,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  At  the  office." 

"  Will  you  stay  here  a  moment,  please  ?" 

And,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  Nellie 
was  off  in  a  second.  She  returned  in  a  very 


ALL   THINGS  COME  TO  HIM  WHO  WAITS.   329 

short  space  of  time.  "  I  could  hardly  believe 
my  eyes,  but  I  know  now  it  is  true.  This  is  Sir 
Albany,  Baron  of  Armadale.  His  wife  is  visit- 
ing at  our  house,  and  he  was  coming  there  this 
month." 

"  Isn't  it  strange  you  should  find  two  here 
whom  you  know  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  described  the  ring  exactly,  and  there 
isn't  a  doubt  but  that  this  is  my  friend." 

"  He  speaks  of  Olga  in  his  delirium,  but  seems 
to  think  he  has  some  one  near  him  by  the 
name  of  Alma,  but  he  cannot  quite  reach 
her." 

"  Alma  is  his  little  girl  ;  and  Olga  is  his  wife. 
They  have  telegraphed  for  her  already." 

"  If  she  don't  come  soon,  she  won't  find  him 
alive.  He  has  been  like  this  ever  since  he 
came." 

Then  Nellie  was  left  with  her  patients. 

How  much  stranger  than  fiction  is  real  life ! 
Here  before  her  lay  the  man  to  whom  she  had 
once  plighted  her  troth ;  yet  not  one  fibre  of  her 
being  vibrated  to  the  word  love.  How  she  pitied 
him,  no  one  could  know ;  she  would  have  done 
anything  to  make  his  suffering  less  ;  anything  to 
bring  him  back  to  health  and  happiness ;  for  she 


330  STORM-SWEPT. 


felt  but  that  for  misunderstandings  he  and  Olga 
should  have  been  happy  now  ;  but  had  it  not  been 
for  those  same  misunderstandings  she  herself 
might  not  yet  have  known  the  joys  of  kinship  ; 
might  not  yet  have  found  that  sister  whom  she 
had  known  in  spirit  but  not  in  name. 

Ah,  well !  messages  are  transported  by  light- 
ning, and  people  travel  by  steam  ;  so  it  did  not 
take  many  hours  for  Olga  to  be  on  her  way,  and 
she  would  take  the  baby  with  her ;  for,  if  Clyde 
was  dying,  it  was  no  more  than  right  that  he 
should  see  the  child.  What  misgivings,  and  ifs, 
and  might-be's  crowded  into  her  already  worried 
brain,  none  but  God  knew  ;  and  when  she  reached 
the  hospital  and  looked  upon  those  unconscious 
features,  she  would  have  given  her  own  life  if  it 
could  have  been  the  means  of  saving  the  father  of 
her  child.  There,  by  that  sick  bed,  she  forgot 
all  the  unkindness,  all  the  hasty  words,  forgot 
even  that  this  very  journey  was  to  rob  her  of  the 
little  Alma  ;  and  kneeling  by  that  bedside,  she 
prayed  that  if  the  Lord  saw  fit  to  save  him,  he 
might  take  her,  or  even  the  little  Alma  if  only 
Clyde  might  be  spared.  And  as  she  knelt  there 
his  dark  eyes  opened  with  the  light  of  con- 
sciousness in  them,  and  Olga's  tears  rained  fast 


ALL   THINGS  COME   TO  HIM  WHO  WAITS.   331 

upon  the  cold  hand.  He  looked  at  Nellie  who 
stood  beside  him  in  her  nurse's  garb.  Then  his 
eyes  wandered  to  Olga  still  kneeling,  and  then 
to  the  little  Alma,  who  was  held  in  the  other 
nurse's  arms. 

"  Let  him  kiss  the  baby  good-bye  and  then  take 
her  away." 

When  she  was  gone  he  turned  his  gaze  upon 
Nellie.  His  lips  moved  but  no  sound  came.  She 
bent  her  head  to  listen.  He  was  whispering, 
"  Forgive  me  if  I  spoiled  your  life.  I  was  not 
good  enough  for  you." 

"  I  forgave  you  long  ago,  for  a  greater  hap- 
piness came  to  me." 

"  I  am  glad  for  that.  Tell  Olga,"  she  stepped 
aside  and  Olga's  ear  was  bent  low  to  catch  the 
whisper,  "  I  was  wrong ;  I  have  my  punish- 
ment." 

"  Don't,  Clyde,  you  break  my  heart  ;  I  would 
die  for  you  if  I  could.  I  will  give  my  life's 
blood  for  you  now  if  it  will  save  you." 

"  No,  Olga,  it  is  too  late,  too  late !  It  grows 
mi'ty,  I  cannot  see  you.  Leon  Thorpe  loves 
yon.  Let  him  care  for  you.  He  will  be  more 
kind  to  you  than  I  have  been,  for  I  was  cursed 
— cursed  by  the  Dragon  of  Armadale  !  " 


332  STORM-SWEPT. 


We  draw  the  curtain  over  the  struggle.  None 
who  heard  it,  will  ever  forget  the  wail  of  anguish 
that  rang  through  the  room,  as  the  whisper  rose 
to  a  wild  despairing  cry.  It  roused  the  other 
sleeper,  and  Nellie  led  Olga  away  from  the  scene 
of  trial ;  past  the  white  beds  of  the  ward  till  she 
came  to  Leon's  couch. 

"  Clyde  gave  you  to  Leon.     See,  he  lives !" 

And  the  sleeper  awakened,  rested  his  eyes  on 
Olga,  and  dreamed  again. 

Olga  was  under  the  doctor's  care  then  for  a 
time.  Her  nerves  had  been  at  such  a  high  tension 
they  gave  out  entirely,  but  she  was  where  she  re- 
ceived the  best  of  care  ;  and  when  Leon  Thorpe 
was  well  enough  to  go  home,  Nellie  went  too  with 
Olga. 

Life  passed  very  uneventfully  at  Westbridge 
for  nearly  a  year.  Ralph  was  getting  quite  impa- 
tient, and  the  day  for  the  wedding  was  finally 
set. 

An  evening  came  in  early  September,  when 
Ralph  and  Nellie  went  to  the  church  to  practice, 
previous  to  the  ceremony.  Olga  sat  at  the  organ 
playing  softly  the  wedding  march.  Ralph  stood 
by  the  chancel  rail,  while  Nellie,  leaning  on  Leon's 
arm,  walked  slowly  up  the  aisle.  She  looked  up 


ALL   THINGS  COME  TO  HIM  WHO  WAITS.   333 

into  his  face  and  playfully  said,  "  I'll  play 
you  are  my  father  just  for  to-night,  but  I 
have  two  fathers,  and  what  I  most  need  is  a 
brother." 

And  after  that  she  wondered  what  made  him 
tremble  so.  The  practicing  was  over,  and  Ralph 
and  Nellie,  oblivious  to  all  others,  walked  down 
the  old  church  aisle  arm  in  arm.  A  ray  of  sun- 
light stole  in  through  the  western  window  and 
made  a  halo  round  her  head. 

Olga  had  finished  the  wedding  march,  but  her 
fingers  still  clung  to  the  keys.  Then  sweeping 
over  them  softly  and  full  of  pathetic  melody, 
came  the  opening  bars  of  Home,  Sweet  Home ! 
She  sang  and  played  the  air  through.  What 
melody  rilled  the  solemn  old  church  as  the  slant- 
ing sunbeams  glinted  over  the  polished  pews. 
She  thought  she  was  alone,  and  she  sang  as 
never  before,  clear  through  to  the  last  line  of 
that  soul-thrilling  home  song.  Out  from  behind 
the  curtain  which  hid  the  player  from  his  view 
came  Leon  Thorpe,  his  empty  sleeve  fastened 
into  his  coat-pocket.  Seating  himself  beside  her, 
he  took  her  hands  from  the  keys,  and  imprisoned 
both  in  his  only  one. 

"  Olga,   I    have    waited    for  you    all   my    life. 


334  STORM-SWEPT. 


Will  you  make  for  me  a  home  such  as  you  have 
been  singing  about  ?" 

"  1  will  gladly  help  you  make  the  home,  Leon  ; 
but  I  can  give  you  more  than  friendship.  I 
thought  my  love  was  buried." 

"  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

THE  END. 


A     000  030  744     7 


